Mushy Moments
by MusicalLuna1
Summary: Drabbley type things concerning the romanticness dangling between Shawn and Juliet, because dude, who doesn't see that coming? Drabbles. ShawnJuliet.
1. Touch Me, Baby

These are going to be little bitty things that I don't necessarily consider one-shots, but I like enough to want to post them and share with all of you O'Spencer fans out there. :) I'll probably never mark it finished, because I write mini-mush-blurbs all the time and I think it's better to post them all in one "story" instead of getting you guys all excited at the posting of a new story when it's really just a teeny little thing.

So yes. You can come here for mushy no-attatchment-required blurbs anytime you like. If you want to request that I make something more out of them, go ahead and ask. Suggest ideas! I'd love to use them in bigger stories. There are a few that I may someday in the far far future, do that with. But for now, they will be little bite-sized snack-stories. So enjoy the mushy!

THIS IS UBER SHORT, SO DON'T GET TOO EXCITED.

I wanted to write a mushy that was Subtle. With a capital 'S'. I'm not entirely sure how Subtle it turned out, but I like that it's Gus, noticing something small, that probably only he would notice. I like the idea that Gus notices and/or knows things about Shawn that no one else does and/or will. I think it's a cool testament to their friendship and characters. :) Anyway. So this is a SUPER-SHORT little mush-blurb. :D

* * *

Gus knew no one else would see it, but he saw it.

Shawn was sitting on the edge of Juliet's desk, flirting shamelessly the same way he always did, grinning enormously, his gaze fixed on Juliet, who was working very hard not to be amused and to get her work done. The flirting itself wasn't really all that exciting or all that telling because it was something Shawn did constantly. If there was a pretty girl within a fifty foot radius of himself, he was flirting with her. No, the flirting was routine, boring. It was the fact that in the full ten minutes Shawn had been sitting just inches away from the pretty young detective, flirting with wild abandon, he had yet to make physical contact with her.

With most of his flirtations, Shawn took every opportunity he could to brush the girl's hand, sweep her hair from her face, read her palm, hold her hand, admire her shirt, tickle her…any excuse at all was seized.

Now, his hands were clasped carefully in his lap and hadn't moved except for the occasional carefully planned gesture during all that time.

And that alone spoke volumes about the intensity of Shawn's feelings toward the lovely junior detective.

* * *

**End Chapter Notes:**

AWWWWWWWWWWWWZ.


	2. Coming In?

_snerk_ I did a lot of (okay, a little) writing for the Sailor Moon fandom back in the day (a whole ten years ago OO ...okay, and maybe last year too) and one of the really popular situation-fic-plots was to stick the two of them in a closet in order to make them confess their undying love for each other and what not. So I kind of did that for our beloved O'Spencer. :D One of many..._many_ scenes and/or fics in which I'll write about how they wind up getting together. :)

* * *

"Shawn!" Juliet cried indignantly, dragged by the arm into a nearby closet. "What are you doing?" He pulled the door shut behind them, forcing her up against the back wall of the tiny space. "Let me out of here."

"No," he said, hand clutching the door knob and he shifted his weight, a hand reaching up to rake quickly through his hair.

She huffed and said, "Shawn, this isn't funny, let me out of here."

"No."

She finally met his gaze in the darkened closet. He was looking down at her intently, his face just inches from her own. She swallowed almost inconspicuously, but not quite, and backed away as much as she could, pulling her hand from his chest.

"Shawn," she said and her voice was quiet, "Let me out, now."

"No, I have to talk to you first."

"In a closet? Shawn--"

"I want us to go out."

Juliet stared at him, mouth open. A split-second later a smile spread across her face and she said, "Don't be ridiculous, Shawn. We have work to do."

"Why not?" he demanded and she looked up at him again, eyes widening.

"You're serious."

"No, I just dragged you in a closet so I could make a joke," he replied dryly.

Juliet was torn. She didn't want to hurt Shawn's feelings, but at the same time, there was absolutely no way she could date him. They worked together and he was just too... "Shawn, we can't," she said softly.

His hands brushed her arms and he said intensely, "Why not, Jules?"

"We work together, Shawn, we can't--"

"Oh, don't give me that load of crap. You and I both know that's just an excuse."

Juliet faltered. He was right. "I..." She hated the idea of telling him why she really didn't want to date him. "Shawn, I..."

"I'm too immature. I flirt too much. You're afraid all I want is a fling," he listed softly. She gaped at him. Sometimes it seemed that "psychic" was all he could be.

"I'm sorry, Shawn. I just..."

"Give me a chance, Juliet. I want to date you, not do you," he said.

She flushed. Maybe...

"Let me show you I'm serious," he said and his voice was so quiet, that even centimeters from her ear, she almost didn't hear him.

Her breath caught in her chest as he turned his head, nose and mouth just inches from her face, and when their eyes met-- "How?"

His lips curved in a slight smile and he pressed his lips to hers.

* * *

lolz. I give you the lead up to the mush, and then snatch it away right near the end. I guess I'll have to give you some blatant mush in the next one... what do you guys think:D


	3. Green Light

**Author's Chapter Notes:**

Blatantly mushy, as I promised. XDDDD A take on Shawn and Juliet's first date. :D Squee! lol

* * *

"Oh my gosh, I haven't done this since I was a kid!"

Juliet sat tucked between Shawn's legs in a go-kart on Santa Barbara's premiere mini-prix track. The sun had set just a half an hour before and the night was clear and cool. Shawn's chest was warm against her back and she was pretty sure it was what was keeping her warm in her gauzy sleeveless shirt.

Shawn laughed. "Jules, you're missing out! I go every two weeks."

She grinned. "You know, that doesn't surprise me."

"How can you drive past here and not want to go for a spin?"

"I…don't know," Juliet said and smiled at him over her shoulder.

"Well we'll fix that," he said, waggling his eyebrows, and leaned forward as the countdown started, taking her hands in his and placing them against the wheel.

"Who's driving?" she asked and laughed as he turned the wheel beneath their hands, making enthusiastic engine noises.

"Both of us, duh!"

The countdown ended, the light flashing green.

Juliet shrieked with laughter as Shawn pressed the gas pedal to the floor. They shot out of the starting arena, driving less than spectacular as they both worked to turn the wheel. By the end of the second lap, Juliet was laughing too hard to steer, and Shawn was bent over her, laughing and yelling good-naturedly at the other drivers around them.

They stumbled off of the track a few minutes later, both still laughing. Juliet's path was being dictated by Shawn's arm as she futily fought to stem her laughter. "I can't believe," she gasped, "How much fun that was!"

Shawn's eyes glittered as he looked at her. "I told you."

She finally began to get a hold of herself and she sighed happily. "That was a much better idea than going to a movie."

He grinned. "That would have been fun too. We could have gone to see _Tomorrow Again_."

"That looked terrible!"

"Exactly."

She gasped, her mouth dropping open and she smacked him, exclaiming, "_Shawn!_"

He laughed and took her hand. "Come on, I want to show you something."

He led her up a flight of stairs beside the main building, up and around toward the back. He glanced over his shoulder, smiling at her, and they made their way up two more flights to the roof of the building.

"Can we be up here?" Juliet whispered as he helped her step onto the roof.

He grinned impishly. "What if we can't?"

"_Shawn_…"

He laughed and pulled her toward the front edge of the roof. "Check this out."

"Oh, wow…" she murmured. "Shawn, this is amazing."

The view from the rooftop showed part of the race track, lit, with the gleeful sounds of the riders drifting up toward them. Beyond the track, the city lights sparkled in the darkness and the ocean beside it, not too far to their right, reflected those lights.

He smiled and threaded his fingers through hers. "I thought you would like it."

"I really do." She leaned into his shoulder lightly and he glanced down at her, surprised. Juliet had made it clear to him that this date was strictly a trial-period thing that she didn't expect to go any further. He had hoped, but not expected anything from her. "This is really great, Shawn. I'm glad we did this."

"Does that mean we can do it again?" he asked playfully.

She smiled. "Well, we'll just have to see how things go."

He grinned. "I like that answer. It's not a 'no'."

"No, no, it's not…" She looked up into his eyes, her hands creeping along his arms toward his shoulders. "In fact, it might…be the opposite."

Shawn's eyebrows rose, along with his heartbeat. "Really," he said, and tentatively laid his hands on her waist. "You're sure about that."

She smiled. "You keep surprising me Shawn."

"I want this for us Jules," he said. "I like you. Like…two hundred times more than anybody I've ever dated. I would probably give up my bike to go on one more date with you. And trust me. That bike is like…my child or something equally precious sounding."

Juliet grinned and blushed, her head dipping against his chest. "You have got to stop doing that."

"What?"

"Saying things that are so unbelievably sweet."

A smile flickered across his lips and he glanced away from her, lifting her hand, with her pinky finger extended. "You see this?" He wrapped his own pinky around it. "Pretend this is all of me. Consider me wrapped."

She laughed, blushing, their pinkies remaining interlocked. "You cheat."

"Whatever it takes," he said with a grin. "Now. Since I have set the mood so perfectly with this spectacular view, and since I can feel you shivering, even though you're trying to hide it, will I get hit if I, say, do this?" He pulled her against him, her arms tucked between their bodies and his wrapped around her back, one hand warm and reassuring at the base of her neck.

"No, that's okay," she said softly. The more time she spent with Shawn, the less she worried about the womanizing his flirting suggested. He continued to prove himself worthy of more serious consideration. And now she was 99 sure that he was going to kiss her. If she didn't want that, she needed to pull back now.

She leaned in.

"And this?" he whispered, his lips drifting tantalizingly close.

"That seems—"

She broke off with a slight gasp as he pressed his lips (which turned out to be even softer than they looked) to hers. The kiss was gentle and exhilarating and it felt like the butterflies in her stomach had just been injected with speed. She couldn't fight off a smile when he pulled away, a grin spreading rapidly across his face.

"I think a second date is a definite possibility," she said, toying with the collar of his shirt.

"Excuse me for a second while I do a victory dance." Juliet's laughter rang out delightedly as he spun her, doing a ridiculous dance in a little circle around her.

He kissed her again briefly and tilted his head toward the track. "Shall we go again?" She grinned.

"I'd love to."

* * *

**Chapter End Notes:**

Anything you guys might like me to write about...:D I'm open to suggestions!


	4. Better Than a Bath

As per GBFreak1's request, a story with sloooow dancing. :D It's not a huge part, so I hope you like it, GBFreak1, but if you want more...let me know and I can give it another try. ;D

And I suppose I could mention that Shawn and Juliet are indeed _dating_ in this fic.

* * *

The front door to Juliet's apartment opened with a weary click. She shuffled inside, locking the door behind her and dropping her keys on a small table in the entryway.

It had been an absurdly long day. She had gotten a call from Lassiter at four-thirty that morning requesting her presence at a crime scene on the beach. Two tourists had been murdered and half buried in the sand. They had spent the day chasing down leads that stretched to the very limits of the city and it was now after ten-fifteen at night. She wanted a long shower, maybe a scoop of Rocky Road ice cream, and then she was going to go collapse in bed.

She slipped off her shoes as she headed down the hall, not caring where she left them, and it took her a minute to register that the kitchen light was not supposed to be on.

A rush of adrenaline flooded her system and she suddenly felt wide-awake. Reaching for the gun at her hip, she edged cautiously down the hall toward the kitchen doorway, her heartbeat pounding loudly in her ears. "FREEZE!" she yelled, whipping her body into the doorway, gun brandished.

Shawn Spencer stared back at her.

"Oh my gosh, _Shawn_," she breathed, dropping the gun to her side. "What are you doing in my apartment?!"

Shawn shrugged, popping a piece of fruit from the bowl in his hand into his mouth. "Apparently role playing. I didn't think you went for that kind of kinky stuff, but hey, I'm--"

"_Shawn_," she said exasperatedly, setting the gun on the counter. "I'm tired. I can't do this right now."

He smiled slightly and stepped forward, planting a light kiss on her lips. "That's why I'm here."

She sighed, but the corners of her mouth quirked upward. "That would be very sweet Shawn, if you hadn't broken into my house. How did you get in here?"

He grinned and held up a small object. "I copied your key. Just in case."

"Shawn!" She snatched the key away from him. "I swear, sometimes I think I should get a restraining order against you."

"That wouldn't be very conducive to our relationship, don't you think?"

"Shawn," she said desperately, "I'm glad to see you. Really, I am, but today was a really long day and I'm so tired..."

"Hey, say no more. I told you, that's why I'm here. Go change. I cut these for you--" He waggled the bowl in his hand. "--there's a bottle of wine on the coffee table, and I learned how to give mind-blowing massages when I was twenty-six."

Juliet's expression softened. "I knew there was a reason I hadn't gotten that restraining order."

He grinned. "Go."

She kissed him and he smiled, giving her a gentle push and waving her down the hall.

When she returned a few moments later, she was wearing her comfiest set of pajamas, her long blonde hair hanging loosely around her shoulders.

Shawn had turned down the lights, lit a few candles, and had poured a glass of wine for her, which sat beside the now cool whip topped bowl of fruit. As she fingered the wine glass, touched by each of the gestures, he pressed the play button on her stereo and Frank Sinatra's distinctive croon began flowing from the speakers.

"Shawn, this is perfect," she said softly and moved to hug him.

He smiled, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Every once in a while I pull through in the clutch."

She leaned into his chest and decided that if Shawn broke the rules to do things like this, then she was okay with that. This was even better then what she had planned. "I love this song..." she murmured.

He smiled into her hair. "Want to dance?"

She pulled back slightly, looking up into his face incredulously. "What?"

"Dance. You know, do the twist, shake your groove thang, cut a rug..." He slid his hand into hers, and with a smile that made her heart leap, began swaying with her, the two of them turning in slow, lazy circles beside the coffee table. Everything he had done, and the way he was looking at her, his hazel eyes saying plainly that nothing else in the world mattered but her made her feel unequivocally special.

They danced languidly through two more songs before Juliet kissed his cheek tenderly and said, "I think I'm ready for that wine now."

He grinned. "Sit sideways."

"Ooh," she said sinking onto the couch, "I get a massage, don't I?"

"From the sexiest masseur on the planet," he said.

She grinned, accepting the wine glass he held out as he sat down behind her. "All right. I think you officially win the award for best boyfriend."

He laughed and she nearly fell apart right then as he worked his slender fingers into her aching shoulders. She never had a chance. His hands worked the tension right out of her muscles, and the wine (fruity and sweet, just like she liked it) drained the stress and any of her remaining desire to stay awake. When her head started bobbing toward her lap, Shawn slid his hands down her arms and kissed the back of her neck lightly. "Why are you stopping?" she moaned.

He chuckled and slid his arms beneath her, picking her up. "I think it's bedtime for you Jules."

Her head listed into the crook of his neck and she mumbled something unintelligible as he moved into the hallway. At the end of the hall, he pushed open the door to her bedroom with his toe, careful not to bump any part of his sleepy package against the frame, and gently laid her in the bed, pulling the covers up and over her as she snuggled into her pillow.

She was already asleep when he whispered, "Sleep tight, beautiful."


	5. At Long Last

Henry stood at the kitchen window, sipping a cup of coffee as he watched Shawn start up the front walk with his girlfriend, who looked, frankly, terrified. Henry smiled into his cup, catching the mischievous grin on Shawn's face just before deft fingers caught the girl in the ribs. She shrieked, squirming, and Shawn laughed, keeping at it until she too was laughing and simultaneously trying to hit him.

Shawn had had another serious girlfriend a long time ago, though Henry hadn't learned it from him. It had been back when they weren't on such good terms, and all Henry really knew was that it hadn't worked out in the end. It spoke leaps and bounds about how far their relationship had come that Shawn felt the need to bring this girl—who (Henry could tell just from the look on Shawn's face when he talked about her) could very possibly be "the one".

He chuckled as Shawn pulled the girl onto the grass, a very indignant look on her face, her cheeks flushed as she glanced anxiously at the house. Shawn captured her face with his hands and said something to which the girl's expression morphed from annoyed anxiety to wholehearted fear. Shawn smiled and his head dipped as he kissed her tenderly.

Behind Henry, the oven timer went off and he turned to remove the roast from inside. After setting it on the table, he moved to the front door and opened it, calling, "Dinner's ready, kids!"

He smiled as a barely discernable, "_Oh my gosh_," of mortification came from the girl, followed by Shawn's delighted laughter.

"Coming, Dad!"

Henry had returned to the kitchen to set out the other dishes when the couple entered the house and he caught the end of what Shawn was saying. "…fantastic. I'm going to have to gouge Dad's eyes out." Henry snorted and then forced the laugh down, not wanting them to know he was listening in.

"Shawn…" she said, and sounded amused and worried all at once.

"Come on."

Henry busied himself as the two of them stepped into the kitchen and looked up as though he hadn't been eavesdropping. "'Bout time, Shawn," he said and set the crockery in his hands on the table, pulling off the pair of oven mitts he was wearing. "So this is her?"

"Nah, this is just a hooker I picked up on the way here, she was—ouch!" He grinned at the girl, who was glaring, face bright red, and said gently, "I was just kidding. Yes, Dad. This is her. This is the extraordinarily beautiful girl I've been telling you about."

Henry smiled and extended a hand to warmly shake hers. "Well, it's very nice to meet you finally, Juliet."

She smiled nervously in return. "It's nice to meet you too, sir."

"Henry," he said pointedly and then waved his hands at the table. "Come in you two, sit down."

Shawn smiled, squeezing Juliet's hand and they sat down, Henry already working to distribute the meal. "So what made you say yes to this clown?" he asked.

Juliet smiled, glancing at Shawn. "Well…"

Dinner was even better than Henry had imagined it would be, and he was surprised to realize that despite the constant joking, Shawn was serious, focused, mature even. He watched the pair of them throughout the meal, getting to know Juliet, who was every bit as lovely as Shawn had made her out to be, and gauging just how strong Shawn's feelings were. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Shawn intended to marry her. He didn't have this experience with any of Shawn's prior dating material, but if the surreptitious glances Shawn kept shooting his way (the kid still couldn't fathom the fact that his old man was the one who had taught him to notice things) were any measure of the situation, there was no question in his mind.

It amused him, because he could see that Shawn was every bit as nervous as Juliet had been, if not more so, despite his laid-back attitude. He knew the smile he couldn't wipe off of his face couldn't be helping his son's nerves, but he couldn't help it. He was delighted that Shawn had finally found someone who really made him happy. It was about damn time.

After dinner, the three of them moved onto the porch to watch the sunset, wine glasses in hand. Shawn followed Juliet to the railing, his arms wrapped around her and his chin on her shoulder. He kissed her cheek softly and set his glass on the railing before saying, "I'm going to the bathroom, think you can handle this guy back here? I know he can be a bit of a bear, but he's really a teddy if you squeeze him right."

Henry rolled his eyes. Juliet simply smiled and said, "I think so."

Shawn kissed her cheek again and said, "Okay. Just smack him on the nose if he gets out of hand." He turned and headed back inside, shooting a warning look at Henry, who held up his hands, an innocuous expression on his face.

When he was sure Shawn was out of earshot, he looked back at Juliet and said, "He loves you."

She blushed, biting her lip, and said softly, "I think so."

"He hasn't told you yet?"

She sighed. "Not in so many words."

"I'll have to talk to him about that." He smirked slightly and leaned on the porch railing beside her. "He gets that from me. I can see that he loves you in the way he looks at you though." He shifted, leveling his gaze with hers. "You're a great girl. Perfect for him. Beautiful, funny, and you make him happier than I've ever seen him. That being said, I hope you're taking him seriously, because you'll break the kid's heart if you're not."

"I know," Juliet said. "I wouldn't have agreed to date him if I hadn't thought he were taking it seriously."

Henry smiled. "Good." He took a sip of his wine and then said, "I'm glad he chose you. You'll be good for him."

She smiled in return. "He's good for me too."

"All right, that's enough talking about me behind my back," Shawn declared, emerging from the house again. Juliet smiled as he slid his arms around her. "Didn't I tell you? A teddy bear."

Henry rolled his eyes and pointed a finger at him. "You break her heart, I'll break your legs, Shawn. I'm serious."

"Gee, Dad, thanks for your support," he said dryly. "I don't think you have to worry anyway. I'd probably break my own legs." Juliet grinned and Shawn's mouth quirked into a smile just before he leaned down to kiss her again.

Henry smiled because he could see plain as day that Shawn was taking this seriously.

And that was saying something.


	6. So It Begins

"I'm thinking about getting a tattoo."

Lassiter rolled his eyes. That was something he didn't need to know about Spencer. And how inappropriate could one man be? This was a crime scene for heaven's sake, not some coffee shop where he could sit around and chitchat.

"Can I look at yours?"

And just like that, Lassiter was actively listening to the conversation going on in the adjacent room.

"What makes you think I have a tattoo?"

Lassiter rolled his eyes. He could tell by the sound of O'Hara's voice alone that she was trying to play it cool. He still couldn't believe that she had gone undercover for over a week without blowing her cover. Even if they were sorority girls.

Spencer smiled. "I've seen it."

O'Hara gasped and hissed, "How?!"

He frowned, wondering exactly where this tattoo was. The smirk on Spencer's face could be heard in his voice. "How do you think?"

"You can see things like that?"

Oh, please. This was ridiculous. O'Hara was a good detective, but honestly, how could she believe the load of crap that Spencer claimed he was capable of? He didn't know how the moron could have seen the tattoo, wherever it was, but he sure as hell did not see it psychically.

"It's a gift, and a curse. So, can I see it?"

"I thought you'd seen it," she said suspiciously.

"I did, but my visions can be kind of foggy and I want to really get a good idea of what it's going to look like."

Good God, he was full of such B.S. O'Hara would never—

"Fine. But don't get any ideas, Shawn. This is strictly business."

Damn.

Spencer sounded amused. "Please Jules, I'm a man of honor."

Lassiter snorted. Right. And he was a purple turkey. Despite himself, he was curious, so he edged toward the doorway, careful to make sure no one was looking before he peered into the room.

O'Hara had taken off her jacket, which now hung over one arm. They both faced the opposite wall and Spencer was bent over, the hem of O'Hara's shirt pushed up a few inches, revealing the tattoo in question on the small of her back.

"Wow, Jules," Spencer murmured. He brushed his fingertips over the small design and O'Hara stiffened slightly. "This is really cool."

From what he could make out, the tattoo was of a miniature badge, with a dated banner floating around it. It either commemorated her graduation from the Academy, or maybe her appointment as detective. He bet the former, based on the date.

"You think so? It's not stupid?"

Spencer smiled and straightened, smoothing her shirt back over the tattoo. "Of course not. It's cool that you're passionate enough about what you do to get a tattoo in honor of it."

Lassiter pulled back around the corner when O'Hara turned toward Spencer.

"You realize you're now obligated to get a tattoo and show me, right?"

"No matter where I get it?"

A smack sounded from the other room. "_Shawn!_"

He laughed. "Okay, okay, I'll get it somewhere G-rated. Do you think I have the right bone structure for one like yours? It might make my back look fat, which you know, would be horrible, because I've got a really sexy back—"

"Shut up and pull your shirt back down, Shawn."

"O-_kay_…" he said petulantly. "Did it hurt?"

Oh, brother. This was just getting stupid. Why was he still standing here listening to this idiocy?

"Yeah. It wasn't unbearable or anything though."

"…Would you go with me, Jules? Hold my hand?"

Was he serious? She couldn't go for that. How could she not see his shameless, childish flirting for what it was?

"Okay, I think I can do that."

Oh, sweet merciful heavens, was she really that oblivious?

"Strictly business though, right?" he said playfully.

"Maybe not strictly."

Apparently not.

* * *

Teehee. So this is obviously set way back (now) when Shawn and Jules are still dancing around the fire of dating and flirting like crazy. For those of you who love Lassie, and the mushy, there will be more of these coming...I like Lassiter's POV. XDDDD

And yes, I did give her a tattoo. I think she might get one, and if it was something really kind of sensible (like the one I described) I think she'd do it. :) It would have to be subtle though. :D Anyway. Shutting up now.


	7. Detecting and Distracting

Teehee. XDDD This is another Lassie-centric O'Spencer moment brought to you by the letter X. And the letter D.

This one's a little more casual than the other one, with even less of a purpose/plot but it amuses me nonetheless, so I hope you enjoy it. :D

This one is around the two-week mark of the adorable couple's relationship.

* * *

Spencer was perched on the corner of O'Hara's desk when Lassiter returned from the records room. He rolled his eyes and sighed. The pair had been dating for two weeks now, and despite O'Hara's valiant attempts to keep their relationship low-key and discreet, Spencer was making it extraordinarily difficult.

He often showed up at the most inopportune times, lavishing O'Hara with bizarre gifts (like that giant connect-the-dots image he had taped to the wall on Thursday—Lassiter had never seen what the final picture was) and inappropriate bouts of public affection. It was disruptive, and not to mention unprofessional, when he popped out of the woodworks just long enough to kiss O'Hara in the middle of an interview with a witness, whisper something that flushed the junior detective's cheeks, and then flounce off like nothing had happened.

He was grudgingly happy for her though, because even a blind man could see how happy the fake psychic made her, no matter how hard she tried to remain serious and professional. And while the extreme amount of cheer radiating from his young partner could be irritating at times, he remembered (vaguely) what it felt like to be in the beginning of a relationship like that, and he wouldn't take those feelings away from her for anything.

"…Right here. You have to look really close, Jules," Spencer was saying, a crime scene photo held up in front of her and his finger indicating an empty space on the dusty blue carpet.

She leaned forward, squinting as she tried to make out whatever it was Spencer was trying to show her. "I don't see anything, Shawn," she said sounding frustrated.

"Right here," he insisted and when he bent a little, lining up their faces on either side of the photograph, Lassiter suddenly knew what he was up to. He rolled his eyes. "Keep looking…"

"Shawn, I don't—" The photograph was yanked away suddenly and she didn't have a chance to react before Shawn had pressed his lips to hers. She immediately pushed him away, crying, "_Shawn!_" but she was fighting off a grin a moment later when he grinned impishly back at her.

"Hey, you spotted it!"

She smacked him, but didn't protest when he leaned down, kissing her briefly once more. Lassiter sighed and tried to look like he was actually reading the case file he was holding. He hated to admit it, but maybe he could take a few pages out of Spencer's book and manage to get through a date all the way to the first kiss stage. Then again he probably needed a _date_ to do that. He scowled. "Do you two mind?"

O'Hara pushed Spencer away again, her face flushed and she muttered, "Sorry," immediately bending over her paperwork and trying unsuccessfully to hide her embarrassment.

Spencer simply grinned at him and said in a sympathetic tone, "Aw, Lassie, are we making you jealous? Maybe I should hook you up with someone."

"God, no, Spencer," he said, grimacing at the very thought. "I'd probably wind up with some kind of prostitute."

"Jules! Did you hear what he called you?"

She looked up at him, not amused, and said, "Ha ha. Very funny Shawn."

Spencer smiled slightly. "Okay, that was below the belt. Sorry. Come on, though, Lassie! Surely you don't think I'd do something like that!"

Lassiter scowled. "I trust you about as far as I can throw you, Spencer."

"That hurts Lassie. Right here," he said, folding his hands over his heart.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't you have something better to be doing?"

Spencer smiled. "Better than sitting here with my spectacularly beautiful girlfriend and the stuffiest detective in the precinct? Absolutely not. Besides. You need my help."

Lassiter's eyebrows dove toward his nose. "I don't need any such thing, Spencer. I—"

The fake psychic put his fingers to his temple, his eyes closing and he said dramatically, "I predict that in exactly ten seconds, a key piece of evidence will fall _right into your lap._"

"Don't be an idiot, Spencer—"

Said idiot's eyes opened and he began counting backwards from ten, mouthing the numbers as he folded each finger down, an irritatingly cocky expression on his face. O'Hara was looking at Lassiter over her shoulder, her hand covering her mouth in an attempt to hide a smile. Spencer reached "one" and much to his chagrin and astonishment, a bagged hard drive dropped heavily into his lap. He gawked at it, spluttering, "How the—where did—_Spencer_—"

The psychic casually pounded fists with Guster, who was now leaning against the pillar beside O'Hara's desk, an aloof expression on his face. Spencer's mouth then curled into a grin and he said, "Ask, and ye shall receive."

"What the hell is this?!" Lassiter demanded, and he was furious that Spencer had once again managed to discover something vital that he couldn't.

"Well that should be obvious. It's the girl's hard drive. It was missing, wasn't it?"

"How do you know it's hers?"

The two partners exchanged an almost imperceptible glance and then Spencer shrugged and said offhandedly, "I know." He smiled and turned to O'Hara. "Well, my work is done here. I'll pick you up at seven thirty, okay?"

It annoyed Lassiter that he could take the crime-solving part of the job so lightly. He wanted to ask where Spencer had gotten the hard drive, but knew he would only get another vague run-around.

She smiled in return and lightly put a hand on his thigh. "Wear the clothes I asked you to, all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll wear the stupid outfit," he said and rolled his eyes, but his smile never faltered.

"Good." She bit her lip, hesitating a split second, and then she caught hold of his collar, pulling him down and into a kiss.

"Oh for the love of…" Lassiter muttered disgustedly and turned away. He couldn't decide what annoyed him more, O'Hara's preoccupation with the fake psychic, or the fake psychic's inevitably helpful interfering.


	8. One Time Deal

Another Lassie-centric ficlet about O'Spencer, but without the Jules element this time around. :D Enjoy guys, and let me know what you think!

* * *

"What the hell were you thinking, Spencer?!"

Two months. The fake psychic had made it two months before screwing up. But as per usual, he hadn't half-assed the screw up. No, he had done it spectacularly.

"Aw, come on, not you too, Lassie! It's bad enough that Jules isn't speaking to me!" Spencer protested, fingers raking roughly through his hair as he paced. "I don't understand what the big deal is!"

Lassiter snorted. "No, of course you don't, Spencer. Most of the girls you go out with probably don't give a damn whether or not you've got six other girls on the side." It was hard to believe, even if it was Spencer, that anyone could be so utterly stupid.

"I never went out with anyone like that," he objected and then his head swayed a little. "Okay, there was this one girl—but I'm pretty sure she was Mormon. Whatever—There are no 'girls on the side'!"

"Oh. So she just imagined seeing you make out with the shopgirl, is that it?" he demanded.

Spencer froze and Lassiter scowled, crossing his arms. He had warned him the Friday of his and O'Hara's month anniversary that if he ever did anything to hurt her, he was prepared to do some damage in her place. For the last two days she had been impossible to work with, caught between unstoppable tears and intense anger. It hadn't taken much to get her to spill what had happened (they had gotten curiously close, much to Lassiter's surprise) and he had immediately gone looking for the perpetrator.

"You're an idiot, Spencer," he said scathingly. "How could you do something as stupid and underhanded as cheating?"

He spun to face him, snapping angrily, "I did _not_ cheat on her!"

"Oh, really. Then exactly what _do_ you call it, oh all-knowing psychic?" he asked sarcastically.

Shawn hissed, pulling at his hair and then finally with a great deal of reluctance admitted, "I was trying to get information."

"On what exactly? Whether or not she had a tongue-ring? Don't give me that load of bull—"

"No!" he said sharply, and then in a more resigned tone, "I was flirting with her to try and get her to tell me where she was keeping the cash. She wasn't buying it, so I kissed her. I was hoping she'd ask me up so I could snoop around her apartment. It's not like I did it for fun. She gave me the creeps."

Lassiter's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Spencer, even if that is true, the fact that you're willing to sleep with someone to get the information is more than enough to convince me that you shouldn't be with in 500 feet of O'Hara ever again."

Spencer scowled at him. "I was _not_ going to sleep with her."

"You just said—"

"I _said_ I wanted to be invited up—there are a million and one ways of getting out of a date, trust me. I had no intention of sleeping with a girl who I'm pretty sure murdered two people. I did _not_ cheat on her," he insisted.

Lassiter's eyes narrowed, but he had stopped flinging accusations as he pushed his coat back and put his hands on his hips. "All right. Assuming that's true, Spencer, you're still an idiot."

Spencer grimaced, waving his hands and shaking his head. "I _know_. She wasn't supposed to be there!"

"That doesn't make it better," Lassiter said flatly.

"But it didn't mean anything!"

"Spencer, _that doesn't matter_. Have you ever actually dated a woman? Girls like O'Hara do not take their relationships lightly. You are hers, and hers alone. That means you do nothing with no one else, EVER."

"I didn't think it was a big deal," he said weakly. "It's for the case."

"Well it is," Lassiter replied scathingly.

"What do I do? Jules won't even talk to me," he said and Lassiter was surprised by the distress he heard in the younger man's voice. He sighed.

"You are so full of hot air Spencer. All that talk about the girls you've dated and you don't understand a damn thing about them," he said disbelievingly.

"She hates me."

Lassiter rolled his eyes in exasperation. Since when had he become a relationship therapist? "Shut up. She does not hate you. She's crazy about you, for some insane reason. You have to apologize to her. An extravagant gesture and something to convince her you're sincere—the only thing you can do is talk this one out Spencer."

He shifted, running his hand over his mouth. "I can't just…" he waved his hands, "You know—flowers and champagne and dinner…?"

Lassiter sighed again. It was funny, how thoroughly Spencer had kept himself young. "No. It has to be talking. _And_ a gesture. And you have to swear—and mean it or she'll know—never to do it again."

"Great," he muttered, "And how do I get her to talk to me?"

"Park your rear on her doorstep and don't leave until she talks to you. Women respond to persistence and idiotic moves like that." Lassiter scowled when Shawn didn't move immediately. "What are you waiting for, you idiot? Do I have to drive you there myself?"

"Would you?" When the detective's expression blackened Spencer held up his hands, grinning feebly, "Just kidding. Okay, okay, I'm going. And thanks Lassie. I owe you."

"Just go, will you?"

As the fake psychic turned and dashed out the door, Lassiter shook his head and wondered exactly what he had just gotten himself into.

* * *

Hmm... I'm not sure I like this one or not. I think Lassie's pretty in character, but trying to work with in-a-serious-relationship-and-trying-to-fix-a-boo-boo Shawn is more difficult. I'm not sure how in character he is. Which is probably why I'm not sure if I like it or not. Plus it sort of "ends" weird. Like there's something coming (which (I don't think) there is). But whatever. What do you guys think?


	9. The Terrible Truth

Okay. This one should get some interesting responses from ya'll. I hope you like...if not...uh...oh well. XDDD

* * *

Gus' eyes caught Juliet's and he gazed intently at her, his head tipping almost imperceptibly to the side. She took the hint and slipped away from the conversation Lassiter, Shawn and Karen were having.

She sidled up to Gus and the two of them proceeded up the hallway a little further before turning towards each other, Juliet cocking her head curiously. "What's up, Gus?"

He glanced back toward the group they had left behind to make sure Shawn wasn't coming and then said, "I wanted to give you a heads-up about a few things."

"Okay," she said and then waited, curious to hear what he had to say.

"First off, Shawn is a virgin, regardless of whatever ludicrous statements he may make," Gus said bluntly, and Juliet blushed, bewildered. If she had expected anything, that wasn't it.

"I don't—"

"Hang on," Gus said, holding up a hand. "I'm just warning you that he is going to brag about his sexual prowess—he'll kill me if he finds out I told you this—and he is going to make who-knows-how-many vulgar jokes while in your company and probably at your expense. I just wanted to make sure that you understand that he is basically all talk, and you'll just have to trust me on that. I can only tell you that I know because whether Shawn told me or not—I could tell if he had decided to take that step. So don't be intimidated or freaked out by whatever freaky sexual innuendo he might make. The only reason he does it is because he figures if things are going to be embarrassing and awkward, he may as well make them as embarrassing and awkward as humanly possible and get it over with."

Juliet nodded wordlessly, cheeks still warm. This was definitely not what she had expected.

"Secondly, he is _not_ kidding when he says he's dated a lot. _However_. I can count the number of times he's dated seriously on my opposable thumbs, and I can tell you already that he is as serious as he gets about you. So, _please_," he said, and his face softened, "Don't screw around with him."

Juliet was a little offended that he would think she would do something like that and he must have seen it in her face because he added, "Look, I'm just saying. Shawn is basically my brother. It comes with the territory.

She smiled at that. "Thank you, Gus. And I promise, I won't hurt him if I can help it."

"Hey! Gus, what are you doing lurking over here with my girl?"

Juliet's smile grew as he looped his arms possessively around her and Gus rolled his eyes at him. "We were undressing on another in our minds, Shawn, in preparation for wild psychic sex, what does it look like?" he said dryly.

"Dude," Shawn said. "That's so not cool. Stop trying to imitate my gift."

Gus snorted and winked at Juliet. "Gee, how could I do such a thing?"

Juliet simply smiled.

* * *

Right. So let me explain a few things.

I personally prefer to think of Shawn in this kind of light. Okay, I know we've had concrete proof otherwise, but... Well, I choose to keep his innocence intact. XDDDD So, like it or not, my Shawn (LOLZ) is a virgin, and would throw an ever-loving fit if anyone ever found out. XDDDD

So yeah. Just FYI. :D


	10. Good Advice

Heehee! I have a two-fer-one deal for you guys! You lucky buggers. I loved windscryer's ideas for Shawn's redemption, so I wrote this in response. Then I wasn't 100 happy with it...so I wrote another one. XDDDDD You guys get both today, and now I leave it to ya'll to decide which you prefer. :D

* * *

Shawn sighed heavily, tilting his face to the sky when the first drop of rain splattered onto the tip of his nose. Great. So far, Lassiter's brilliant advice was not doing him a world of good. He'd been sitting on Juliet's front steps for over an hour and she hadn't so much as peeked out the window, despite his fervent pleading with the door and the enormous bouquet of roses in his hand.

The rainfall increased rapidly into a steady downpour. He was soaked within minutes. It figured that it would rain the one day he was stuck outside with no shelter. Speaking of which, what kind of house didn't come with a door overhang big enough to shelter one person?

He set the bouquet down on the steps next to him and rubbed his hands over his face. Sitting around like this, with nothing to do but think was starting to drive him crazy. He had screwed up, for once without even realizing (okay, maybe he had had an inkling that it was a bad idea, but he had tuned out the little angel on his shoulder a long time ago…) and now he couldn't get his father's voice out of his head. He hated himself for proving him right.

It made him uncomfortable, admitting even to himself how much Juliet meant to him. His mother and Gus were the only ones he had really let get close to him in a long time and he hadn't let himself get so involved with a girl since…well, he just didn't do it. Things like this tended to happen when relationships went on too long and crying, hysterical girls who were directing all of their emotion at him were something he couldn't deal with.

This was the first time he had ever decided that the unbelievable amounts of discomfort were worth going through. Juliet resided on a level leagues above any of the other girls he had dated and he wasn't about to let her go without a fight, soul-crushing or not.

He pushed his soaked bangs off of his forehead and was trying to wipe some of the rain from his face when a click behind him alerted him to the opening of the door. He turned hastily and his mouth went dry when he saw Juliet, eyes red-rimmed, strands of hair hanging drearily around her face, looking out at him from a crack in the doorway. It was unnerving, the way seeing her like this made his gut twist. "Go home, Shawn," she said softly.

"I can't do that, Jules." His heart was suddenly beating painfully against his ribcage and he had never been more tempted to run. But that would make his father even more right, and hell if he was going to allow that.

Her eyes closed and her head tipped forward, her forehead coming to rest on the frame of the door. "Shawn, please. I told you, this is over. I gave you your chance and you…" The words caught in her throat and her face pinched as she tried to keep herself from crying. "Just go," she whispered.

She started to close the door and Shawn lunged forward on his knees, wedging himself against the door. "No, don't!"

"Shawn!" she cried and her voice broke. "Please just _leave_."

"No," he said fervently, and planted his hands on the door and the frame, looking up at her. "Just hear me out, okay? Then…" he grimaced and said, tone resigned, "…if you still don't want me here, I'll go. Just hear me out."

Juliet pressed her fingers to her forehead. "Fine."

He relaxed his hold on the door and said as ardently as he could, "I'm sorry. I didn't…I didn't mean to hurt you, Jules. I'd never do this to you on purpose."

"Shawn, I may be naïve," she said, "But it's a little hard to 'accidentally' kiss someone."

"I'm not an idiot, Jules, claiming it was an accident would be stupid," he said.

"So you did do it on purpose."

"No—well, yeah, but—will you let me explain, please?" he said when she started to close the door again. "I don't do this groveling thing very often, you'll have to forgive me if I get some of it wrong." She met his gaze and waited silently for him to continue. He exhaled a long, slow breath and then said, "I did kiss her. But I wasn't cheating on you Jules. I swear that wasn't what it was supposed to be. I…I was getting information for the case. I was trying to find the money and I figured if I could get her to ask me up to her apartment I could look around a little. I didn't think it was a big deal." He caught a glimpse of the look on her face and knew the head detective had been right. He added hastily, "It was stupid, I know. Really stupid," he muttered and he sagged as he realized just how bad his case was. Juliet would never buy it. "Juliet," he said softly, "I'm sorry. I screwed up. Like, oops-forgot-to-pull-the-rip-cord-on-my-parachute-and-I'm-a-hundred-feet-from-the-ground screwed up. I…" He coughed, trying to stop the tightening in his throat. "Dammit, I can't even do this right." This was never going to work, he couldn't do it. He started to shuffle backwards on his knees, and he looked up, startled, when a hand caught a hold of his shirt collar.

"Wait."

He swallowed, forcing himself not to hope.

"You mean it?"

Shawn stared. "What are you kidding? Jules, I don't sit on girl's porches very often. In fact, this is the first time I've ever done something this insane in order to keep a girl from getting away and I'm surprised you didn't call Lassie and have him throw me in jail. I'm pretty sure if you send me away now I'm going to go home and look in the mirror and find out that there's a huge bloody hole in the middle of my chest."

Juliet laughed weakly, tears streaking heavily down her face and his expression twisted. "Jules, you really need to stop crying. You're killing me." He hesitated and then added, "Am I…redeemed?"

She threaded her fingers into the hair just behind his ear and nodded. "But if you do something like this—"

"I won't. I don't want anybody but you."

She smiled and a tear slid down her cheek. He reached up, brushing it away with his thumb and said, "Seriously Jules. You need to stop crying. I'm freaking out here."

She laughed again and leaned down, pressing her lips to his. He returned the kiss with fervor, leaning back for a moment to whisper, "I really thought I doomed this."

"I was afraid you had too," she murmured.

* * *

I really love some of Shawn's lines in this one, but the ficlet as a whole just didn't sit quite right with me. Some of his gushy confessions didn't quite feel him-ish and it didn't feel like it had the mood I wanted.

But anyway! It doesn't matter what I think! on to the next ficcy! XDDDD


	11. Rainy Days and Mondays

The second redemption ficlet. Enjoy!

* * *

Juliet opened her umbrella as she stepped out of the police station. It had been pouring all day long, unusual weather for Santa Barbara, and the twilight-like gloom was something she hadn't seen since leaving Miami. The weather was oddly fitting for her mood. She felt like she had been betrayed, and even worse, she felt stupid because she had known better and she had allowed Shawn to get under her skin and do this to her anyway. She glanced down, trying to ignore the pricking at the backs of her eyes, and reached into her purse for her keys. When she looked up, she gasped, stopping dead.

Shawn stood, soaked from head to toe, wet clothes clinging to his skin, just behind her car, looking more pathetic than she had ever seen him. She quickly looked away and said quietly, "What are you doing here Shawn? I told you. It's over."

"I know," he said. "I can't just let you go like that though, Jules. I have to try and see things my way."

"_Your_ way? Shawn, what other way is there? I saw you kissing another girl! A witness in our case no less! What other way could there possibly be?" she demanded and then covered her face as her eyes finally spilled over.

"A way where I didn't cheat on you. At least not on purpose."

She laughed hollowly. "Oh my gosh. Shawn, really, I can't do this." She started toward the door of her car and then looked up, startled, at the sound of something dropping to the pavement. She stared at Shawn, who had dropped to his knees and was looking up at her, desperation in his eyes and rainwater dripping down his face.

"Jules, please," he begged, and his voice sounded thick. "Please. You have to let me try to fix this. I will throw myself at your feet and beg if that's what it takes."

Juliet pulled her coat more closely around her and despite herself, despite something inside her screaming to just leave and spare herself the temptation and the pain, she said softly, "All right. Explain. But after this—"

Shawn looked relieved. "Fantastic. First of all, I'm sorry. I screwed up. Really bad. I needed information for the case and I did what was easy. I didn't think about you—oh god, that sounds horrible. I don't…" he laughed weakly. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing, Jules. I've never been with someone like, you know—" He waved his hands at her and then sagged, sitting back on his heels. "Dammit," he muttered and rubbed his hands over his face. "Look, I'm sorry Jules. I hope we can still—"

He jerked, eyebrows shooting for his hairline when Juliet squatted in front of him. "What would make you think that I would be okay with what you did?"

Shawn grimaced. "I didn't think about that, that's the problem."

"Then how can I trust you not to do something like this again?"

He pursed his lips and shook his head slightly. "I guess you can't."

Juliet hated that despite what he had done, and despite the fact that he couldn't promise her he wouldn't do something similar again, she really believed he meant what he was saying. She caved. "Maybe…I can give you a chance to earn it."

Shawn looked up sharply, eyes wide. "Don't kid with me, Jules, I may act tough but I'm really very fragile. I very well may go to pieces if you're just playing with me."

She smiled slightly and brushed back the soaked locks on his forehead. "Do you want another chance?"

"Does an addict want another fix?"

"Shawn."

"Sorry. I've never wanted anything more Jules. And that's really, really saying something, trust me. I want something new about every five seconds." He glanced down at his hands and then said quietly, "I know I don't do a lot of things right, and I know I act like an ADD kid on crack and nobody thinks I take anything seriously, but I do, and I'm dead serious about this. You have to work with me, but I'll do whatever it takes, Jules."

Tears had gathered in the corners of Juliet's eyes by the time he finished. "I believe you," she whispered.

He looked up at her and a second later, the umbrella had dropped to the asphalt, rolling slowly away from them as rain began soaking into Juliet's hair. She was oblivious, Shawn's lips working magic against hers and her arms snaked around his neck, fingers threading into the wet hair on top of his head. When they finally broke the kiss, they were both breathing more heavily and Shawn's hands gently took hold of her face, his thumbs pushing the wet locks of hair sticking to her cheeks back into place and he murmured, "I'm sorry."

She smiled and touched her forehead to his, laying a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. "I know."

They kissed again.

* * *

I think this is my favourite. XDDDD I think it just works better. It's much shorter, but I feel like Shawn is more himself and I feel like all of the emotions work better in this one. But as I said, you guys let me know which one you like best:D


	12. Taking the Plunge

"I can't believe we're doing this."

"Just look down, you'll believe it after that."

"Shawn, that's not even close to being funny."

"Look at the people down there. They're like ants!"

"Shawn!"

He laughed. "Jules, this is totally safe."

"Totally safe? Then why do people die doing this?" she demanded, crushing his hand in hers.

Shawn smiled. "What happened to 'Okay, it'll be a rush!'?"

"Yeah, well, that was before we got up here. I don't think I can do this."

"Sure you can. Think happy thoughts. Pixie dust. Fairies. Flying."

"Being splattered all over the ground."

"I'm pretty sure that doesn't count as a happy thought. You're not the girl I thought you were if it is. In fact, I'm a little freaked out now. You don't ritually sacrifice men, or little children, or kittens or something, do you?"

"Shut up, Shawn. Let's go. We can still stop this."

He laughed again. "You're starting to make _me_ nervous, Jules. Would you relax?"

"Okay, guys! Get ready!" an attendant called.

"Oh my gosh. I can't do this. Shawn—"

"All right, when I say 'jump'!"

"_Shawn!_"

"Here we go!"

"JUMP!"

Shawn wrapped his arms around her and pushed off. Juliet's scream followed them down as they free fell and he laughed delightedly, adrenaline flooding through his bloodstream as they came within yards of the ground. Juliet's fingers dug into his shoulders and he felt his stomach fall behind them as they shot back upward.

Juliet never stopped screaming.

* * *

"Oh my gosh, I'm going to _kill_ you, Shawn Spencer!"

Shawn laughed as he helped the weak-kneed detective walk away from the platform. "Jules, you can't tell me that wasn't fun."

"I've never been so scared in my life."

He grinned. "But it was fun wasn't it?"

"…yes," she admitted. "Weren't you scared though?"

"I have nerves of steel, Jules. Nothing scares me."

"Oh really." She held up their clasped hands. "So is that why you can't stop shaking?"

"Shaking? Oh, psh. I'm doing that for your benefit, Jules. You know, make you feel better about being scared…"

Juliet's laughter was so loud that Shawn turned away, grinning sheepishly as his cheeks flushed. "How sweet of you," she finally said, wiping her eyes of the tears that had gathered in the corners of them.

"I try." His cheeks were still pink and Juliet couldn't help thinking it was the most adorable thing she had ever seen. She smiled and stopped, bringing him to a halt too. He raised an eyebrow at her and she tilted her head to the side.

"You're blushing."

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "No, I just have this skin condition—"

She grinned and slid her hands up his shoulders. "It's kind of sexy."

Shawn's eyebrows rose again and he pursed his lips, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Sexy, really? You think? Well, you know, pink is a really great color for my skin and—"

Juliet smirked. "Shut up, Shawn."

She pushed up onto her toes, kissing him, and his eyes slipped closed, arms snaking around her waist. The electric tingle her kisses had elicited the first time had been a pleasant surprise, but when they had kept showing up every time her lips brushed his, he knew there was something about her that just—it was something he had never felt before, something special, and this time was no different.

Juliet finally pulled away and he laid a light kiss on her nose, before opening his eyes and smiling as he met her gaze.

"Want to go again?"


	13. Just Not My Day

XDDDDDDDD As per windscryer's new request (which I thought was brilliant, since I didn't even think about the fact that this is the thirteenth little fic (HOLY CRAP)) I wrote a ficlet about Friday the thirteenth. It's a little late, but oh well. :D

* * *

"_Dammit!_"

Juliet's eyebrows shot upward when Shawn landed, hard, on his hands and knees at her feet. She was sitting in her chair turned to the side in front of her desk as she worked on a report lying on her lap and this was Shawn's first appearance of the day. He cursed again under his breath and hissed as he lifted himself up, rubbing his shin gingerly. "Are you all right?" she asked.

He looked up at her, hazel eyes especially green today, and said, "I will be if you kiss my owie."

She smiled and rolled her eyes. "Shawn, I'm not kissing your leg."

"But it hurts."

"No. Not in the station."

"So if we weren't in the station…?"

"…Maybe."

He grinned and jumped to his feet. A split second later he was leaning heavily on her desk, grunting as pain flared in his ankle. Juliet got up, gently guiding him into a chair. "What happened?" she asked anxiously and knelt, pushing up the leg of his jeans to get a better look at his ankle.

Shawn waved a hand dismissively. "I twisted it on the curb earlier today. It's the thirteenth. And Friday. You know what that means."

Juliet rolled her eyes, but the slight swelling around Shawn's ankle made her a little nervous. "Shawn, there's no such thing as bad luck."

"Oh really? I lost my keys this morning."

"You do that every couple of days."

"I lost Gus' keys five minutes later."

"Also not unusual."

"Starbucks was out of chocolate chips."

"Unfortunate, but not related to luck."

"I tripped on the curb and did this to my ankle."

"Also unfortunate, but—"

"I got four paper cuts on the way here—and I only had one sheet of paper."

"Shawn—"

"Gus spilled coffee on my shirt."

"Is that what that is?"

"I didn't see Lassie and I nearly jumped out of my socks when he grabbed my shoulder—"

"Funny, but not unlucky."

"—_and_ I just tripped on that trash can back there, banged my shin, and twisted my ankle _again_. Ow! Jules!"

She looked up at him, trying to hide her smile. "Sorry. I think more than anything that proves how accident-prone you are. It has nothing to do with luck. Don't be so superstitious."

"Jules, this isn't about superstition. This is about cold, hard, really _painful_ facts," he said and grimaced as she turned his ankle slightly. "That hurts you know."

"Sorry," she said again. "We should probably wrap this. And you need to put some ice on it." She pulled over a chair and gently lifted Shawn's foot so that it rested on the seat. "How long have you been walking around like this?"

He shrugged and made a face. "I dunno. A while…"

Juliet rolled her eyes. "Shawn, the only bad luck you have is what you do to yourself. I'm going to go get an Ace bandage and some ice. Stay put."

"Jules, I'm telling you. Bad luck. This day is out to get me!"

"Are you going to stay or do I need to ask McNabb to watch you?"

He tried to stifle a smile. "What if Lassie comes back? He might threaten to hurt me if I don't go away."

"Just tell him you're waiting for me. I'm serious Shawn, don't go anywhere."

"Okay!" he called after her. "I'll be right here when you get back! Still in pain, from my _bad luck!_"

Shawn stared as Juliet approached him. It had been over an hour and it looked like she had been in a fight with a wind machine. Her hair had come halfway out of the ponytail it had been tied back in and tendrils of it hung in and around her face. She set a roll of gauze and a half-melted bag of ice on the desk before kneeling in front of him. She blew a strand of hair out of her face and muttered, "Don't ask."

"I was afraid you abandoned me. I was starting to get a complex. Where did you go?"

She pushed her hair back again as she leaned in to look at his ankle and said, "That's asking."

He grinned. "Friday the thirteenth got to you too, didn't it?"

Juliet sighed and retrieved the bag of ice, laying it gently over his ankle. He hissed. "It probably won't do much good at this point," she murmured, "But it might make it feel a little better."

"It does." He noticed a dark spot on Juliet's finger and he frowned, leaning forward to catch her hand in his. "Hey, what happened?" A long, thin blood blister ran along the side of her middle finger.

She grimaced. "I pinched it in a drawer while I was looking for the bandage."

"Aw, Jules, you sustained an injury while trying to take care of me? That's—that's just…awesome." He smiled and lifted her hand, laying a gentle kiss on the side of her finger. "…Better?"

She blushed, glancing down at his ankle. "_It_ doesn't feel better…but I do."

He grinned and tilted his head. "So what happened while you were gone?"

Juliet sighed. "You're not going to let it go, are you?"

"It's a problem. I can't resist a 'told you so'."

"Everything went wrong," she finally confessed. "I accidentally ran into the Commissioner, I couldn't find the bandages, then I pinched my finger, I got locked in the first aid room, and all of the ice was gone no matter where I went. I couldn't believe it."

"Hey, no worries, Jules. Friday the thirteenth is an evil, evil day. It has taken down people far more awesome than you and I. Jason rules Friday the thirteenth with an iron fist. No prisoners," he said.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Okay. Okay, I admit it. Today is bad luck."

"That was very big of you Jules. I'm very proud. What do you say we change our luck?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, unraveling the gauze so that she could wrap it around his ankle. "And how do you propose we do that?"

He grinned and put his hands on hers, stopping her. "This always works for me." He bent forward, catching her lips with his own. Juliet leaned into the kiss, sighing almost imperceptibly, and he smiled, pulling back slightly to lay light kisses on her cheeks and chin before stealing one more from her mouth. "I don't know about you, but that's the luckiest I've felt all day."

* * *

I really like how this one turned out, so let me know what you guys think. The banter just feels natural to me.

I love to hear your guys opinions and ideas, so keep them coming and thank you so much for all the ones I've recieved so far:D


	14. Blame Game

SS requested this...ages ago. XDDD So here you are SS! I hope you like!

* * *

Juliet hesitated, lingering near the door of the hospital room and chewing her thumbnail, while the others, Karen, Lassiter, Henry, and Gus, approached Shawn's bed chattering in hushed tones, with a lightness and a faint sense of relief.

For over three weeks, Juliet had been finding post-it notes left on the front door of her house, on her desk, and on her car windshield. It was a little creepy, getting seemingly random notes ordering her to break up with her boyfriend of two months, but she had asked Lassiter about them and he hadn't seemed concerned. Unfortunately, the stalker had been far more serious than either of the detectives anticipated.

Then one morning, on his way into the Psych office, Shawn had been attacked.

The stalker had come out of nowhere, swinging a baseball bat. With the first blow, Shawn's left arm had been broken and four of his ribs fractured. The second blow had just missed as Shawn staggered away from him, stunned, and the third had clipped him in the head before shattering the front window. Gus had burst out of the office at that point, Shawn dropping at his feet, and before he could even process what had just happened, the stalker had vanished.

Shawn had been rushed to the hospital and Gus had called Lassiter, finally allowing himself to freak out a little bit since Shawn had disappeared into the bowels of the E.R. After that, for him, it had been a blur of telephone calls, police officers, and doctors. Things had briefly slowed down when Henry arrived, as he took charge, obviously shaken despite his attempts to appear otherwise.

Realization had set in for Juliet the moment Lassiter said the words "Spencer" and "assaulted". Shawn had been hurt because she hadn't done anything about the notes and now he was in the hospital. The very idea made her feel sick.

She and Lassiter had arrived at the hospital minutes after Gus' call and Lassiter had immediately gone into detective mode, checking first to find out Shawn's status before leaving to go to the crime scene. He left her behind to wait for Shawn to become available, oblivious to her distress.

Sixteen stitches, four neurological tests, and a bright red cast later, Shawn was finally starting to come around again. By the time the doctor had set him up in a room, Lassiter had returned and Karen arrived just in time to accompany the group up to see him and the pain medication had taken most of the edge off.

Juliet lingered quietly at the back of the group as they walked in; Shawn looked terrible. The wound on his forehead was still slightly swollen and six of the stitches trailed down to point at the arch of his eyebrow, edged by a dark mottled red and purple bruise. On top of that, despite the pain medication and despite his attempts to hide them, small winces flickered across his face with every breath. The guilt and horror at what had happened to him because of his relationship with her was almost overwhelming.

And that was what found her lurking uncertainly at the back of the room, afraid to approach her own boyfriend. Lassiter, the first to run out of easy banter and the most uncomfortable in this particular situation, was the first to notice her hanging back. "O'Hara? What are you doing?" he asked and nodded toward the bed. "Shouldn't you be fawning over Spencer about now?"

Juliet bit her lip and looked away. How could she face Shawn when she felt responsible for what had happened to him? "I…"

Lassiter's eyes narrowed. "O'Hara, are you blaming yourself for this?" She tightened her arms around herself and that was all the answer he needed. "This is not your fault," he said sharply.

"I should have done something. I was getting those notes and they were getting more and more cryptic every time I got one. I should have done something about it!" she said. A brief burst of laughter from the bed quickly turned into a muffled cry and she winced. This wouldn't have happened if he hadn't been involved with her.

"What? What could you have done? You had no idea who was sending the notes, and they never overtly threatened you or Spencer. There was nothing you could have done, O'Hara, you know that."

"I know, b—"

"No. There is no 'but'. There was nothing you could do to stop this. Now go talk to your boyfriend or he's going to think you couldn't care less about him," he said gruffly.

She shook her head. "I don't know… What if…what if it's better that we're not together? What if this happens again?"

"O'Hara, Spencer means everything to you, am I right?"

She swallowed. It was uncanny how he, of all people, noticed things like that, and that he could be so candid when talking about it. "Yes," she whispered.

"And I would bet my badge that the idiot would give his life for you without a second's thought. So tell me, why exactly it is that you think ripping his heart into tiny little pieces would be the best thing to do for him?" he asked.

"I…it…"

"Mmhm. He's running out of people to chat with, and if you're not there to fill the gap when he reaches it, I'm pretty sure he'll start acting up to compensate for his heart break, so please, spare us all the drama of trying to keep him in bed, and go talk to him, would you?"

Juliet nodded and said softly, "Thank you, Carlton."

"Just go."

She turned back toward the bed and Shawn's eyes caught on her. "Jules!"

She moved forward to kiss her boyfriend.


	15. Man of His Word

XDDDDDDDDDDDDDDd Here it is guys! The long awaited tattoo follow-up! It came out nice and long, and I think the tattoo I came up with works well... I hope you all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. :D

* * *

"Don't forget, you promised," Shawn said as he pulled open the door of the Tattoo Tailor, holding it open for a certain young, blonde junior detective. He had made a bargain with her, and being a man of his word (and not about to pass up the opportunity to hold Juliet's hand with her consent), he was following through.

Juliet sighed and smiled. "Yes, Shawn, I know. I promised."

He followed her inside. "Because I don't think I can do this without you. My pain threshold is very low and despite my tough exterior, I'm very sensitive. I'll have to have your support to get through this, Jules. Why are you laughing? I'm not kidding," he said, but it was hard to keep a straight face when she was trying (and failing) to fight off a smile, her eyes fixed on his.

She patted his arm mock-sympathetically. "I'll be here for you, Shawn. It'll be okay."

He would never admit it, but he actually was a _little_ nervous, and he was glad Juliet had come along. He had gotten a small tattoo when he was eighteen, because, well, duh, that was the first thing you did when you reached the magical day that gave you (most of) your legal adulthood. (That and purchasing your first box of cigarettes. Which had been his last because he had promptly given them away; he knew if Gus even caught a glimpse of them, his dad would know within minutes and he would be in a world of hurt, legal or not.) It was a daisy. On his toe. There was even a song that went with it, so he would probably have to tell Juliet about it, after she held his hand through getting this new tattoo, of course, because it would amuse her.

"I still think I should get a pineapple," he told her.

She rolled her eyes. "Shawn, you don't want to be sixty-five and have a tattoo of a silly looking pineapple."

He sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine… What about a little boy cat? Ooh, or maybe Betty Boop!" They were both aware that he'd chosen the final content days ago.

He was duly ignored.

"Hey, Shawn," Ritchie, his tattoo artist, said cheerfully, appearing from behind one of the walls separating the tattoo stations. He was a six-foot-six beanpole of a man with tattoos covering every inch of visible skin on his bare arms and neck and Shawn was pretty sure most of the rest of his body. Much to his surprise, he had discovered that Juliet had quite the repertoire with him because she was careful about who she allowed to work on her, and they had met a couple of times before she asked him to touch up the tattoo on her back. "Hey, dollface," he added, smiling warmly.

Juliet smiled, said, "Hi, Ritchie," and leaned in for a hug.

"You ready to do this?" he asked Shawn when they parted.

Shawn grinned. "Whenever you are."

"Sweet. Come sit down over here and we'll get started."

It had taken several days of looking and thinking and a few lighthearted discussions with Juliet to figure out what he wanted and in the end, he had given Ritchie a list and then told him to run with it.

"All right, well this is what I came up with, hopefully you like it, or we'll have to postpone again." He grinned good-naturedly.

Both Shawn and Juliet leaned in, peering closely at the drawing. "Dude, that's perfect," Shawn said.

Ritchie's grin broadened, his face lighting up. "Yeah? You like it?"

"I love it."

"It's really good, Ritchie," Juliet said honestly.

"Well I'm glad you two approve. So where do you want to put this bad boy?"

Shawn pursed his lips. He'd been thinking about the placement since the second Juliet's challenge had gone into effect and he had narrowed it down, but he still wasn't entirely sure where he wanted to get it. He admitted as much. "I've been thinking my shoulder blade, my shoulder, and, while getting in touch with my feminine side, my hip. I want it to be out of sight. I've done a couple of modeling gigs and you know, you never know when they might call again." Juliet rolled her eyes and a smile pulled at the corners of Shawn's mouth. "Where do _you_ think I should get it Jules?"

"Not your shoulder. You haven't actually told me that this is special, but I know it is, and I think it would be better if you put it somewhere less typical."

Shawn was amused by her insight. "Okay, so my hip or my shoulder blade. What do you think, Rich?"

Ritchie's eyebrows rose as he considered. "Personally, I think the design would look better on your shoulder blade. But if you want to be able to look at it yourself, then I would go with your hip."

"I don't," Shawn said bluntly. "I don't need to see it. Let's just say…it's a formality."

Juliet smiled and Ritchie nodded. "All right great. Let's get this stencil on there then."

He had Shawn turn to straddle the chair after he had pulled his shirt over his head and he leaned against the back. Five minutes later he had smoothed the stencil in place. "All right. Go check it out in the mirror. I think you should be able to get a glimpse of it." He smirked.

Shawn grinned and he and Juliet moved to the mirror, he peering over his shoulder to look. The tattoo followed the line of his shoulder blade like it was meant to be there. "Perfect. That's great."

"It's going to look really great when it's done," Juliet said. "That's the perfect place for it."

Ritchie grinned and waved magnanimously at the chair. "Then let's do this shit."

Straddling the chair again, Shawn held his hand out, a grave expression on his face as Juliet sat down in a chair Ritchie had pulled up for her, the tattoo artist himself snapping on his gloves and readying his tools. Juliet smiled, obviously amused, but slid her small, warm hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry," she said lightly. "It doesn't hurt. Much."

"Oh, so now you're a comedian. You're funny. Ha. Ha ha ha." She grinned and it was impossible not to smile back. If he was being truthful (which he tended not to be), he was nervous. His pain threshold really _wasn't_ very good—he got a little snippy when he was in pain—and despite the fact that he would probably never see the thing, it was weird to think that he couldn't get rid of it if he wanted to. Permanence didn't really suit him. Besides, Juliet was there and she was letting him push and prod at the boundaries of their relationship without putting up a fight. It was nerve-wracking because he didn't want to push it too far, but if there was a possibility that she might actually consent to something more… It was definitely a quandary.

"All right," Ritchie said. "Brace yourself."

The first needle was still a shock and he gasped faintly, his hand tightening around Juliet's. His heart had already been a little overexcited and the stimulation did nothing to calm it down. Ow. Ow. _Ow_… The pain wasn't terrible, but it prickled and stung, and he didn't realize he was grimacing until he noticed Juliet trying not to smile as she looked into his face. He immediately worked to force his expression clear. That only seemed to make it harder for her to mask the smile.

"Are you okay?" she asked and he didn't like the humor in her voice.

"Fantastic. The little needles piercing my flesh feel like a cool cascade of refreshing water. No, like…" He continued talking, sarcasm dripping from each word, much to Juliet's apparent amusement, but he felt a little funny. It was getting awfully bright—Juliet's already fair face nearly fluoresced it had become so white and his voice seemed to becoming from far, far away. The tinny, monotonous ringing that began to swell in his ears was what gave it away though.

"Oh, crap," he heard his voice mumble and Juliet's bright white face looked vaguely concerned.

"Ritchie, Ritchie, hang on. Stop for a second," she said and Shawn dimly registered the buzzing sound from the tattoo needle stopping over the ringing in his ears, which was beginning to become unbearably loud.

Ritchie's face appeared in the peripheral of his vision and he said, "Don't worry, dollface, this happens all the time. Shawn? Shawn, here, lemme help you turn around."

His head spun as they maneuvered him around, blackness now encroaching upon his vision, but a small hand on his back slowly helped him bend, his head coming to rest on his knees and her voice, sweet and gentle, said, "Shawn, take a deep breath, okay? Nice and slow." He did as she asked and the feeling of breathing was a very strong sensation in comparison to everything else. The blackness began to fade away. "That's it," she said, "Breathe again."

He did and, very slowly, the ringing faded and the color and clarity started to leech back into his shoes and the floor as he stared at them. Everything felt weird, disjointed…

Juliet coached him through several more deep breaths, her hand rubbing reassuring circles on his back. Finally, after what seemed like a very long time, but probably hadn't been, he felt more soundly fixed in reality, albeit a little woozy. Wary of sitting up, his head still rested between his knees when he muttered, "Wow. I am…thoroughly humiliated."

Juliet was smiling when she said, "Here. Sit up and have a drink of water."

He sat up cautiously, relieved when everything continued to look normal, and Juliet held out a small cup of water for him. "Thanks," he muttered and was even more embarrassed when he realized his cheeks were warm. Fantastic. He was turning into a regular girl.

"Hey, no sweat, man," Ritchie said. "Happens all the time. People get worked up and forget to breathe properly and—_bam_. No biggie. That was pretty trippy though, I've never seen anyone do it like that. You were pale as hell, but you just kept yakking and yakking. Freaked me out a little for a second there."

"It freaked _you_ out?" Shawn was slightly mollified by this information.

"Most people just conk out for a minute, but you were like a zombie or something. Never seen it happen like that before. It was definitely weird. You wanna keep going today, or do you wanna take a break?"

"No, no. Let's do it. I'm fine."

"Are you sure, Shawn?" Juliet asked. "You had me worried for a minute there."

He waved it off, already feeling better. It was getting harder and harder to remember what the near-fainting experience had been like. "Yeah, I'm fine. Bring on the tat. It'll restore my manhood."

Ritchie grinned and Juliet rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Now that's the attitude. Whenever you're ready, man."

Shawn turned immediately, determined to shrug the experience off. Juliet leaned in as Ritchie switched the needle on again and took his hand, saying quietly, "Don't forget to breathe this time." She was teasing, but at the same time, he could tell she meant it.

"I'll do my best Jules, but sometimes it's a little hard when you're around."

She flushed, her expression flitting to shock and he smacked himself mentally. _Way_ too forward! Where the hell had that come from?! He knew better than to say stupid things like that!

He winced slightly as Ritchie began again and cleared his throat, saying with a little too much cheer, "Gus is dating a florist he met at his other job. I swear, every surface at Headquarters has some kind of flower on it now, it's like walking into a _garden_…" He watched the stunned expression fade from her face as she readily grasped onto the new thread of conversation and disappointment flooded through him. Dammit. He had definitely poked too hard that time. He had punctured the fragile barrier between them and her defenses were leaping to repair and reinforce the breach.

It was hard to act like he hadn't noticed anything when she was so eager to push them back into a safe zone. Still, he was glad she had come, and she held his hand, as promised. It was enough, for now.

Shawn forgot about the setback not even five minutes later, animatedly telling Juliet and Ritchie about Sharon, one of Gus' more unfortunate relationships. Her laugh made his insides swell pleasantly, and it amused him that despite her laughter, she told him off for having been less than supportive during Gus' trial and tribulation.

The tattoo wasn't very big, or very complicated, and it took just an hour and a half for Ritchie to finish. "Oh, wow, Ritchie," Juliet breathed when she moved to get a better look. She released Shawn's hand and for a second, he skulked, unhappy that the time had passed so quickly. "It's beautiful."

Ritchie beamed.

"Is it going to be a problem for you, Jules, or can I go look now?"

She looked up, a sheepish smile and a blush growing on her face. "Oh. Sure. Yes."

He smirked and got to his feet, moving to the mirror. Peering over his shoulder once again, a grin spread across his face. Juliet was right. "Dude. It's perfect."

The tattoo curved along the natural line of his shoulder blade, numbers of different sizes and styles all tumbling along the curve of seven carefully disguised digits. He had always kind of liked numbers—it was a puzzle-solving thing and his father liked the crossword, so word puzzles were out—and he liked the idea of a record. Which was stupid, because several of the numbers represented something that would probably change—things like how many girlfriends he'd had (was it weird that he knew exactly how many it was?), how many jobs he'd held (fifty-eight and standing), how many times he'd been to Mexico (and how many he'd managed to get Gus there), and even, the number of times he had asked Juliet out (that would be zero, none, the big goose egg)— then there were more permanent numbers, like the year his first car had been, how old he'd been when he'd first kissed a girl, how old he'd been when he met Gus, and for some masochistic reason, the year his parents had divorced. The cleverly indecipherable seven-digit number that formed the curve was, of all things, his father's badge number.

He didn't know why he'd included it, only that the idea had been as unrelenting as his father and he had finally given in and told Ritchie that it needed to be included. Henry Spencer was inescapable.

And yet, he was strangely proud of the tattoo.

"Really, Rich," he said, moving closer to the mirror in an attempt to get a better look, "It's exactly what I wanted."

Ritchie looked as though he would be set for a month on their praise alone.

"Well, that's good to hear. I gotta thank you for the idea though, it was genius," he replied modestly.

Shawn grinned.

Ritchie took a quick picture and then bandaged the area, giving Shawn careful instructions about what to do to care for the tattoo along with a few days supplies to tide him over until he could make sure he had his own. Shawn paid him with a generous tip that Gus would probably kill him for (even if Ritchie did deserve it) and they bid him goodbye.

Juliet smiled as they stepped outside, Shawn grimacing. The bandage was rubbing against the tender spot on his shoulder. "You know," she said, "I didn't think you'd actually do it."

Shawn immediately looked offended. "Jules! How could you think I'm anything less than a man of my word?"

She smiled and simply shrugged mysteriously. It was mystifying, and absolutely adorable.

He paused after opening the car door, leaning against the car frame. "So," he said nonchalantly, and he could see in Juliet's face that she could hear something coming in his voice. "Are you going to help me care for my tattoo? Rub Vaseline on it, bandage it, and stuff? I'd do it myself, but you know—" He reached over his shoulder halfheartedly, flopping his arm a little. "—I can't reach, and Gus would never help me do it—" That was a blatant lie. She seemed to know it too.

"Well," she said, and leaned against the other side of the car, her lips pursing in a smile that he had to say was one of his favorites because it sparkled with mischief. "I suppose I _would_ feel awful, having talked you into getting a tattoo and watching you nearly pass out—" His cheeks pulled at the corners of his mouth balefully—she was going to milk that for all it was worth, wasn't she? "—if I neglected it and you died from some horrible infection."

"That would be unfortunate."

"So I guess I have to say yes." She shot him another smile that he couldn't quite decipher and slipped into the car. He followed her, another smile growing on his own face. There was just something about the junior detective that drew him to her. "So are you ever going to tell me what all those numbers mean?" she asked. "I know you said they're just a bunch of numbers, but I think they're more than that."

He smiled. He liked that she never accepted the easy answer from him. "I tell you what Jules. I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you what one of the numbers means and…as I see fit…I'll tell you what the others mean as time goes by."

"What's my part of the bargain?" she asked, curiosity obviously piqued.

He smiled again. "All you have to do is stick around."

* * *

To reassure her that he did indeed intend to keep his word, a week after their adventure at the tattoo parlor he explained the meaning of the fifty-eight. The second number he revealed to her was 1979—the year he had met Gus for the first time. A month and a half later, on their first date, he divulged the meaning of the large zero in the middle of the jumble. Her eyes had gone very wide and it was the first of many moments where he felt exposed to her—the zero just served as a reminder that he had been chasing her for a very long time.

Over the five and a half months that they dated after that, Shawn explained to her other numbers, including the stupid ones about his first kiss and his car, the times he (and Gus) had been to Mexico, and the one that documented the number of injuries he and Gus had sustained between them. He also mentioned the one about his girlfriends and, then, after a big fight, when he had gone and had far too much to drink, he told her everything about the year his parents had divorced and so much more.

The day they finally got married was the day that he finally clarified the disfigured numbers for her. Her understanding made it painfully clear to him that she was what he needed, and he later that night, he showed her the number he had added the previous day, a large, bold number one that dominated the design.

She ran her fingers over the addition, a vague idea about what the number stood for, but unsure of the specifics. "What does this one represent?"

"The number of girls I'm going to marry," he murmured and kissed her.

She cried.


	16. Prone to Stupidity

"What the hell happened to you?"

Juliet looked up to see whom Lassiter was referring to and her eyes widened. "Oh my gosh. Shawn, what on earth?"

Her boyfriend grinned, swaggering slightly as he approached, which was strangely appropriate, considering the fact that he looked like the spawn of Two-Face. The far right side of his face had obviously endured a nasty road rash recently, a darkening red scrape running from his temple all the way along his cheekbone and down to his chin. The scrape continued on his arm, a long strip along the inside of his arm reddened and already scabbing in a few spots. "I had a small accident this afternoon, no biggie."

She didn't miss Gus' muttered, "'Small accident' my ass…"

Her eyes immediately grew one size. "_On your motorcycle?_"

Shawn's eyebrows rose in surprise at her ferocious concern. "No, Jules, not on my motorcycle," he said and smiled again tentatively when she relaxed a little. "I fell. No biggie, like I said."

"Did you fall out of a moving _car?_" Lassiter asked incredulously. Shawn's mouth pinched in amusement.

"No, that would have been a lot cooler, and a lot less embarrassing than the truth. But that's not—"

"I can't believe you didn't call me," Juliet said and ignored the annoyed looks she got from both Gus and Lassiter as she pulled Shawn aside.

He smiled crookedly, tilting his head and said, "Then you would have been freaking out all day. And as much as I love the idea of you doing any kind of freaking on my behalf, I didn't want you to worry. It's nothing Jules. I do worse than this all the time." Behind him, Gus let out a bark of derisive laughter.

"If that's your attempt at being reassuring, then you need to try again," she said.

He grinned. "Just a few bumps and scrapes Jules. Nothing to worry about."

She sighed and brushed a feather-light touch over the scrape on his cheek, looking up at him. "Still. Next time, _call me_." His lips puckered in an attempt not to smile and she glared.

"I'll call!" he insisted and then muttered under his breath, "Or Gus will, anyway." She smacked him on the shoulder and he laughed, planting a quick kiss on her lips. "I'll call."

"_Thank you_."

He turned back to the others with a grin and said, "So! Back to business, shall we? I think I may be getting some information about the Chesterton case in just a few, so if you'll all be patient…"

Gus' already displeased expression only darkened. "Don't do anything stupid, Shawn."

Lassiter snorted. "Is that even possible?"

Shawn, apparently oblivious to his two disapproving associates, closed his eyes, his hands drifting to his temples. They opened again a moment later and he began a little dance—shuffle, slide, swish of the hips…shuffle, slide, swish of the hips…shuffle, slide— On the third "swish of the hips" he let out a tiny gasp, stopping in his tracks. Juliet and Lassiter stared at him, waiting, and Gus just scowled, looking more irritated.

"_Ow_," Shawn wheezed, and even Lassiter couldn't help being alarmed when his face drained of all color.

"Shawn?" Juliet exclaimed and immediately moved forward when he began to look less than steady on his feet. Gus caught him firmly around the arm, holding him up, and he pushed him backwards into a nearby chair. The look of annoyed exasperation on his face surprised Juliet.

"I _told_ you, you idiot," he muttered, squatting beside the chair.

Shawn continued to breathe audibly, eyes closed and cheeks pale, grimaces flickering across his face. "And when—have I ever listened, Gus?" he asked.

"Are you okay?" Juliet asked worriedly. "What happened?"

Shawn's eyes opened, his eyes startlingly bright in contrast to the pallor of his skin, and a small grin grew on his face. "Jules, as flattering as your concern is, it's nothing to worry about."

Gus snorted, pulling up the hem of Shawn's shirt on his right side, revealing a rather large bandage taped to his abdomen, just over where his kidney was probably located. "It's always something to worry about with you."

"Is that from your _fall?_" Juliet said, aghast. The bandage had a long red streak across it where blood had obviously soaked through the layers of gauze.

"Good lord, Spencer. I've never known someone with as much of a proclivity for being injured as you!" Lassiter said.

"I prefer to live on the—" Shawn hissed as Gus unsympathetically pried the tape away from his stomach to get a better look at the wound.

"You're lucky you didn't pass out," he said and sighed as he finally pulled the bandage far enough free to see the wound on his friend's side. Behind him, Juliet gasped. A four-inch long gash in Shawn's side had obviously been repaired, but the move from his choreographed vision had pulled several of the middle stitches free, and it was bleeding steadily again. "Great, Shawn. Just great," Gus said peevishly, "You've pulled out the stitches." Glancing at Juliet he said, "Yes, this is from his _fall_."

"Gus," Shawn protested feebly, but he was ignored.

"What the hell kind of fall was this?" Lassiter demanded.

"This _moron_ was channeling his inner Tony Hawk earlier this afternoon. He attempted to do some ridiculous skateboard move along the curb and took a dive into the pavement."

Shawn brushed his fingers over the brick red scrape along his jaw. "Yeah, that didn't feel so good, I have to say. I may have misjudged the difficulty of the particular maneuver I was trying."

Gus rolled his eyes, pressing the bandage back into place, which elicited another gasp and a paling of Shawn's face. "I thought it was hilarious until he sat up and blood started gushing out all over his pants and his shirt. He landed on a broken bottle."

"Oh my gosh," Juliet said.

"Figures," Lassiter muttered. "Can't do anything the easy way."

"Guys," Shawn said, "I'm still bleeding remember?"

"I'm tempted to let you drain a little. Maybe if you're anemic you won't be so tempted to go around having 'visions' that will yank your stitches out," Gus said crossly.

Juliet crossed her arms, a severe expression on her face. "I'm thinking that might be a good idea."

Shawn sighed, his eyes sliding closed, and he said, "Well, seeing as I'm starting to get a little dizzy, that shouldn't be a problem."

Gus sighed dramatically and looked at Lassiter. "Do you mind?"

Lassiter pursed his lips. "Yes, but I'll help anyway. I'll never hear the end of it from her if I don't," he said, jerking his thumb at Juliet.

Shawn grimaced as the two men hauled him to his feet, gritting his teeth as the wound on his stomach throbbed painfully. "Come on, Shawn," Gus said, "Walk. We're going back to the hospital."

He did, Lassiter and Gus helping to keep him steady. Juliet strode ahead of them, clearing the way and opening doors. "This little procession is touching guys, but you're embarrassing me."

"Shut up, Shawn," Gus said waspishly. "You're lucky I don't call your dad."

Shawn pouted.

In the parking lot, Shawn shook both of his supports off, and slipped into Gus' car. Lassiter shut the door and then rolled his eyes, watching as Shawn bent over, trying to rid himself of the dizziness that had overtaken him.

"God, what a nightmare. How can you stand him?"

Gus rolled his eyes. "Years of experience."

"We'll escort you to the hospital," Juliet said and beside her Lassiter's eyebrows shrank in toward his nose. Juliet shot him a look and he crossed his arms petulantly.

"Yeah, fine, we'll escort them," he muttered. "But my Spencer quota for the day is filled after that. He better not come back."

Gus scoffed. "He won't, if I have anything to say about it. I'll ask for sedatives if I have to."

Both Lassiter and Juliet smiled and the latter pulled out her phone, which had begun vibrating. "Hello?"

"_Jules_, _I'm going to the hospital. I tore my stitches. I thought you should know_."

Her mouth battled between a smile and a frown when she met Shawn's eyes through the car window. He fluttered his fingers at her, phone pressed to one ear, and grinned.

"_Can we go now?_" he asked. "_This bandage is starting to get a little squishy, and as much as Gus loves me, I don't think he'd speak to me for a few days if I bled all over his car seat_."

She rolled her eyes and gestured to Gus. "He says the bandage is getting 'squishy'; we should get going."

Gus' face twisted in an expression of revulsion and he hurried around to the other side of the car. Juliet moved to the passenger side window, flipping her phone shut and bent to look inside. The window rolled down a few inches. "Are you going to hurt me?" Shawn asked, eyes large and pathetic looking.

She rolled her eyes and the window finished its decent. "I still have to work after we drop you off, Shawn." Her gaze softened. "Take it easy this time, will you? I don't want to have to take you to the Emergency Room to get a blood transfusion when I get off." She glanced over at Gus, who was pointedly ignoring them and bent forward further. "I'd rather come over and take care of you," she said softly and her fingers teased the hair behind his ear. He smiled and returned the gesture, leaning in the extra few inches to kiss her.

"Well, if you put it that way…"


	17. Glowing in the Dark

XDDDDDDDDd I wrote the first half of this fic about a thousand years ago (okay, 6 months)--slightly differently--and then I couldn't figure what to do with it from where I had it. So I stuck it in my "Bits" document and let it sit. Then about a week ago, I finally wrote in the parts up until just before the very end. _Then_ I couldn't figure out how to end it, so I let it sit again. Today I was reading through my bits because my arms are FREAKING KILLING ME and I read it and I magically came up with a way to end it. :D I went back and read it and realized that it wasn't really very cohesive, so I messed with the beginning a little and...wallah! A new mushy moment for your reading pleasure! Enjoy guys:D

* * *

When he found Juliet, she was sitting off to the side of the Gloworm dance club's main floor on a stool, leaning back against the wall, absorbed in a full-bodied laugh. He smiled, stopping for a minute to take her in. It was funny, in a "holy-cow-I-didn't-realize-she-was-that-attractive" kind of way, seeing her dressed in those shorts and that camisole which made her slim figure look even slimmer. The glow-in-the-dark paint splattered all over her, even in her long, beautiful hair (which, by the way, he really wanted to take out of that ponytail so he could run his fingers through it and see just how soft it was) looked so fun on her.

He was genius for coming up with the idea to throw a "We Solved It!" party here. The quadruple homicide they'd been working for the last month had taken a lot out of all of them, and this opportunity to let go and to spend time together without having to deal with any casework was just what they all needed. The club's infamous glow-in-the-dark paint covered drums, he had discovered, provided an excellent outlet for suppressed aggression and frustration. It was just a bonus that Juliet looked so fantastic in non-work wear, covered in the spray from her turn.

"Jules," he said, stepping forward and she looked up at him, still giggling, tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.

"Shawn!" she exclaimed. His insides swelled at how pleased she sounded to see him.

He grinned. "You're totally not having fun, are you?" She laughed and got to her feet, laying a hand on his arm. Goosebumps immediately formed, spreading up toward his shoulder.

"This is so great, Shawn. I don't know how you did it, and I don't know how you got _Lassiter_ here, but this was a really great idea."

He swelled happily and waggled his eyebrows. "I have my ways."

She laughed again and said, "Apparently." He just barely registered the fact that she hadn't taken her hand off of his arm.

"Paint works for you," he said. "You should wear it more often."

She grinned, tilting her head in a painfully adorable way and said, "It's a shame paint isn't in the dress code."

"Tell me about it. Green glow-in-the-dark paint? So Lassie's color."

Her laughter rang out and he hadn't liked a sound that much in a long time. "I swear Shawn. You never cease to amaze me," she said when she could speak again.

He grinned and shrugged with mock-modesty. "Oh, well. It's second nature for a guy like me." He slapped his chest in an utterly masculine manner and said in a deep voice, "I do what I can to suppress it, but you know." His eyes caught on her mouth. Oh, man. She had a speck of paint on her lip.

She laughed again, making his stomach flutter, and it was impossible for him to tear his gaze away from the small, florescent pink droplet near the corner of her lower lip. "We mere mortals appreciate your efforts to make us feel less pathetic," she said and he grinned weakly, his eyes flicking up to hers for just a split second. Maybe he could just—

He bit the inside of his cheek and then said, "Jules, you, uh, you have a little bit of paint right…" Swallowing, he lifted his hand, brushing the spot on her lip with his fingertip. "There," he whispered.

Her hand moved to the spot, her eyes meeting his. "Here?" She rubbed lightly and he swallowed again. "Did I get it?" Her hand moved and he shook his head wordlessly. "It's still there?" He nodded and she licked the tip of her finger, rubbing again. "Now?" He shook his head again.

Opening his mouth, he croaked, "Let me get it."

She waited expectantly, much to his surprise, and he had to swallow again and remind himself to breathe as he lifted his hand to her mouth again. Carefully, deliberately keeping his gaze fixed on the small spot of paint, he rubbed the pad of his thumb over her lip, his other hand gently holding her head in place. After what felt like an hour, the fleck finally disappeared and his hand drifted away from her mouth. "Is it gone?" Juliet asked softly and with one glance into her eyes he realized that she had noticed. She had noticed how flustered he was. _Crap_.

"Yeah," he whispered and as his hand came to rest on the other side of her face he wondered what the hell exactly he was doing. She had made it expressly clear that she wanted no part of him romantically. Which was far more disappointing than it should have been.

She continued to look into his eyes, blood slowly leaching into her cheeks. "Are you sure?"

He was pretty sure his heart stopped then. "Well…" Was she really giving him permission? Had she changed her mind? Could he really…? He leaned in and, when Juliet made no move to stop him, tentatively pressed his lips to hers.

They were softer and more magnificent than he could have imagined. For a moment, his heart felt like it was beating in his throat, his the only movement, and then her mouth moved against his, actually _responding_, and he felt dizzy from the rush.

Their lips parted slowly, breaths mingling together, and his eyes opened, meeting hers in the dim lighting. They stared at one another for a long moment and then her hand slid into his, their fingers intertwining and she smiled.

"Show me that rhythm you were playing earlier?"

The grin that grew on his face hurt his cheeks when it reached its full size. This was, without a doubt, the best idea he had ever had.

* * *

Teehee.

Okay, who else has a visual of Lassiter covered from head to toe in green glow-in-the-dark paint that's absolutely hilarious (and maybe a little bit sexy)? raises hand


	18. Sending Up Sparks

XDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD I got a request from (someone?) for a story involving "fireworks" and, several weeks after having been asked, it's finally complete! XDDDDD

I had way too much fun writing this one, so I hope you guys enjoy it. :D

**Edit**: Uh oh. I got the wrong person for who requested this fic... Sorry about that! If you're the one who actually requested it, please let me know!

And thanks to neveragain77 for letting me know this one wasn't hers. :)

* * *

"You're coming, Lassie. No excuses," Shawn said and he said it with such finality that Juliet didn't doubt that the detective would be coming with them whether he liked it or not. This marked the second Fourth of July since they had met the private eye duo and Shawn seemed determined that the four of them spend the holiday together.

"Spencer, I spend the majority of my days doing everything in my power to _avoid_ you. What on earth makes you think that I want to spend my Fourth of July watching you flirt with my partner and annoy your little sidekick?" Lassiter asked. He was oblivious to the blush he had raised on said partner's cheeks.

Shawn, as usual, seemed unfazed by Lassiter's lack of enthusiasm. "What makes me think you'd want to let loose and have a little fun, Lassie? Hm, well, let me see…oh, for starters, cheap, calorie-choked, all-American food—and I know how you like a fully loaded hot dog… Uh…oh, yeah, _alcohol_…and, what was my last example? Gus?"

Gus' eyebrows rose and he said, "Uh, that would be his need to remove a certain stick for one night."

Shawn snapped his fingers. "Right! That's it. An impromptu 'stick out of the ass' procedure. Of course. And how does that usually happen?" he said, ignoring the thunderous look on Lassiter's face. He waved his hands. "By hanging out with your friends on a gorgeous July night watching a spectacular fireworks display over the bay. Yeah. I think that would do it." Gus nodded his agreement and Lassiter glowered at the both of them.

"You are not my _friend_, Spencer," he spat.

Shawn pursed his lips. "Okay, a little too fast. Co-workers then."

"I'm not going, and that's _final_. Now leave me the hell alone," he growled.

"Oh, come on, Lassie!" Shawn said. "You and I both know you don't want to go home alone, drink way too much, and fall asleep watching the fireworks on TV. Just come with us! It might not be fun, but you don't have to talk to me, and it's got to be better than sitting at home alone, right? Jules is tolerable company, isn't she?"

The tendon in Lassiter's jaw pulsed. Now Spencer was playing dirty. He couldn't say no now, because that might imply that he didn't like O'Hara and then he would have hurt her feelings and she would be miserable and… "Fine," he grit. "I'll go."

"Awesome! You get to drive, because you have the roomiest car," he said and it was impossible not to notice the "subtle" fist bump between the two friends. Juliet looked pleased, so he supposed that was _something_.

Shawn grinned at him. "Lighten up, Lassie. This'll be fun."

Lassiter sighed. Fat chance.

* * *

Guster managed to call shotgun first, though the fake psychic's ten-seconds-too-late declaration lacked the enthusiasm of someone who truly wanted the coveted seat. The shit-eating grin on his face only solidified Lassiter's perception that he had gotten exactly what he wanted as he slid into the backseat alongside Juliet. The junior detective rolled her eyes, half-smiling and he realized with a sigh that she wasn't wholly opposed to the psychic's quiet advances.

Shawn leaned toward Juliet and opened his mouth. Lassiter frowned, jerked the car into reverse, and hit the gas. There was an outcry as the other three occupants of the car were thrown forward, the wheels squealing against the blacktop. He stamped a foot on the break, jolting them again and Shawn exclaimed, "Jeez, Lassie! Did this become a bumper car in the last five seconds?"

Lassiter glowered at him in the rearview. "Just keep your hands to yourself, Spencer."

He was surprised when Shawn had the dignity to flush slightly, despite the grin that curled his lips. Guster snickered and said, "Looks like your brilliant plan didn't work so well, Shawn."

Shawn scoffed as though he had been deeply offended. "What on earth are you talking about Gus? How dare you accuse me of being anything less than a perfect gentleman! Jules, I would never—"

Lassiter snorted. "Gentleman my ass."

"You know that's right," Gus said and Lassiter couldn't help his mouth twitching in amusement. Guster wasn't so bad, when he wasn't teaming up with Spencer to drive him insane.

"A little loyalty would be nice, Gus. I'm just saying."

Juliet rolled her eyes, smiling. "You're all ridiculous, you know that?"

"Spencer is the _definition _ofridiculous."

"Better ridiculous than hardass, I think."

"I will _turn this car around_. Just keep talking Spencer."

"Shawn, don't. Not tonight. You talked him into this, now give him a break, okay?" Juliet said disapprovingly.

Shawn pursed his lips and held up his hands. "You're right. Sorry, Jules. Lassie—sorry. Let's have fun tonight, okay? Truce."

Lassiter sighed, grudgingly and deliberately loosening the tension in his jaw. "If you'll stop calling me that stupid nickname, at least for tonight, then we have a deal."

Shawn bit his lip, grimacing. "I'll try. I can't make any promises."

Lassiter sighed and rolled his eyes, but knew that was the best he was going to get. "Fine. Truce."

Juliet smiled. "That was very mature, guys, thank you."

"So what are we going to do first when we get there?" Gus asked. "Should we stake out a spot on the beach or—"

"_Food_," Shawn demanded. "I'm ravenous. _Starved_. I haven't had anything to eat since lunch yesterday."

"What?" Juliet exclaimed. "Shawn!"

"Jules, there's little time for eating when I'm fully tuned in to the spirit world."

Lassiter rolled his eyes, as did Gus and the latter muttered, "I wish you'd tune into the spirit world more often."

Shawn poked him in the back of the head. "_Gus,_ you know how taxing it is for me when that happens. How could you say that?I need constant nutrition."

Gus let out a bark of derisive laughter. "I don't think candy, pretzels, Slurpees, or fruit pastries count as 'nutrition', Shawn."

Lassiter caught a glimpse of Shawn leaning over the middle seat again, whispering to Juliet, "I have low blood sugar." Like with much of what he said, it was impossible to tell whether or not he was lying, exaggerating, or telling the truth.

He was unable to comment, however, his attention pulled away by their arrival at the parking lot by the beach. Finding a space, when the beach had been busy since noon, and with the fireworks just a few hours away, was going to be a near impossibility. "Keep an eye out for an opening," he ordered.

* * *

"MMM…"

Gus made a face at his best friend. The noises he was making as he devoured the foot long hot dog in his hand bordered on obscene. If this was part of his plan to romance Juliet, then he was even more sorely lacking in that area than Gus had initially anticipated. He caught a glimpse of the looks on Lassiter and Juliet's faces and jabbed an elbow into Shawn's ribs. He coughed, gagging, and then swallowed hard, turning a glare on him.

"Gus! What the hell? Are you trying to kill me?"

"Shawn," he hissed, "If this is your idea of wooing a girl like Juliet, then you have serious issues that you need to work through first."

"What's wrong with what I'm doing?" Shawn asked, offended.

Gus rolled his eyes. "You sound like you're in some kind of two-bit dirty movie Shawn."

"What? Just because I'm enjoying my hot dog?"

Gus scowled. "Whatever Shawn. If you think that's going to help your case, fine. Be my guest. Moan away." He backed off, but it was impossible not to notice as Shawn scarfed down the rest of the hot dog in virtual silence.

"He has no idea what he's doing," Lassiter muttered. "No way O'Hara will give in to him."

Gus immediately switched into defensive mode. True or not, he was the only one allowed to say crap like that. "Hey, his heart is in the right place."

Lassiter snorted, taking a bite out of his hot dog. "I'm still not convinced this has anything to do with his heart."

Gus scoffed. "And what would you know about it?"

Lassiter's glare was icy. "I was married, Guster."

Gus didn't think it would be wise to remind him that the past tense didn't help his case. Juliet might hurt him.

Lassiter didn't seem to need words however, and his eyes narrowed. "What, are you telling me you actually think he's in it for the meaningful relationship?"

Gus frowned, straightening his coat and glanced at Shawn out of the corner of his eye. He was walking alongside Juliet a few feet ahead of them, his hands tucked into his back pockets and his eyes fixed on the junior detective's face. He looked back at Lassiter. "Let me put it this way, Detective. Why would it take him two years to make a move if all he wanted was something physical? Is Juliet suddenly giving off an 'easy' vibe? I seriously doubt it."

Lassiter glanced at the pair, frowning. "I don't know, Guster, even if he is—"

"Guys, what are you doing all the way back there?" Juliet asked and Gus barely smothered a smile when he saw Shawn purse his lips ruefully.

Lassiter raised his eyebrows and his cup. "Just talking, O'Hara."

"How's your hot dog, Lassi—" Shawn choked on the word, amending awkwardly, "Carlton."

It was a testament to how badly Shawn wanted to impress Juliet that he was even _attempting_ to avoid calling Lassiter "Lassie".

And suddenly Gus realized that, since showing that first glimmer of interest, Shawn had been seriously pursuing Juliet. It wasn't that he had suddenly realized he liked Juliet, no, it was that he finally felt ready to go after something that showed the potential for permanence. He had subtly, maybe even unconsciously, been dropping hints all this time that Juliet was more than just a co-worker, friend, or even a fling. He had been staking his claim. Gus couldn't help it. He grinned.

Oh, he was going to get it when this was all over.

* * *

Juliet smiled, half listening as the three men around her talked and bickered lightheartedly. She wasn't sure if it was just her, but it felt like the warm July evening, steeped with the cheerful buzz of a crowd who had spent a perfect day in an American paradise and lined with the sound of an upbeat band playing good song after good song, was getting to all of them and she was grateful to Shawn for having brought them all together here. It was like being back with her brothers again—two thirds brothers anyway. The other third…well, she wasn't sure about him yet.

She still didn't know if she trusted Shawn not to break her heart. Which was why, after he made a risqué comment that pushed things too far she pulled Gus and Lassiter back in—to provide a safeguard between them. Shawn's regret was immediately evident. Unfortunately, it was impossible to tell if the motivation behind that regret was that he had messed up a chance to get one step closer to getting in her pants, or that he had messed up a chance to get one step closer to convincing her they should date.

She was starting to believe the latter though, because he was carefully respecting her boundaries, and every time she indicated that he had gone too far, he immediately adjusted his tactics and approach, carefully making sure that he didn't repeat the mistake. She wouldn't deny that she kind of liked watching Shawn struggling to keep his composure and prove himself. It was a different side of him. A more genuine side.

The sky above them, streaked with clouds, began to glow, pink and orange as the sun set and she smiled. The sunsets here reminded her of Miami, of home.

"Wow."

She turned at the sound of Shawn's voice and realized that he had managed to separate them from Lassiter and Gus again and she smiled, ducking her head. He was good. "Beautiful, isn't it?" she said.

"Yeah," he said. "Who needs fireworks when the sky itself is on fire?"

Juliet's lingering resistance began to crumble.

* * *

Shawn smiled as the murmur of the crowd began to grow and swell in anticipation as nine o'clock approached. Tonight was going better than he could have imagined.

He glanced backward to catch a glimpse of Gus and Lassiter standing not far behind he and Juliet. Two or three beers had loosened the detective up considerably. Nursing another in his right hand, his left was stuffed casually in his pocket along with his tie, the top few buttons of his shirt undone. A faint smile graced his usually harsh features and he was saying mildly to Gus, "…when I was a kid. I loved this sort of thing. I haven't been to see a fireworks show in years…"

Gus smiled in return and said, "I've only missed the fireworks once." He glanced at Shawn, who grinned when Lassiter's eyes followed Gus' gaze. "It was when I was thirteen. Shawn set off a bunch of fireworks early and we both wound up with a couple of second degree burns. We spent the night in the hospital being reamed out by Shawn's dad."

Lassiter grinned and took another sip of his beer. "I would have paid good money to see that I think."

"Oh, it was a good show all right."

Shawn grinned as he turned his gaze back to Juliet, sitting beside him, shoeless, her bare toes squishing in the sand. Yeah, things were near perfect.

And he knew exactly what would make them perfect.

If he had ever felt anything in his life, he could feel that tonight was his chance with Juliet. Something in that comment he had made about the sunset had opened something within her, what or why though, he had no idea.

She was the only one out of the four of them who had bothered changing before they left the station and she looked, in his humble opinion, gorgeous. The shirt she was wearing was a rich blue thing that wrapped around her neck, leaving her shoulders, arms, and upper back bare and it was a little hard to focus with so much of her pale skin exposed. Fortunately, he preferred her mouth by a slight margin and that was probably close enough to her eyes not to get him in trouble.

He had to tear his eyes away when a rock version of "America the Beautiful" started, raising a tremendous cheer from the crowd gathered on the beach. That was when the sky exploded into sparkling color.

The fireworks were a bewildering array of colors, sizes and shapes and for several long minutes Shawn simply watched. The display reflected in the waves, warping, and it gave the appearance that the sparks and streams of color had taken over the entire horizon. Santa Barbara was famous for its incredible show and this year was no disappointment.

The sky was glittering with gold and red, the smell of the smoke from the fireworks wafting over from the launch station on the beach, when Shawn peeled his gaze away from the display, peeking at Juliet from the corner of his eye. Her eyes were wide, sparkles of color reflecting in them and washing her face in the glow. She looked exquisite.

Her head turned slightly, her gaze locking with his and suddenly the bangs of the fireworks weren't the only sound pounding in his ears. It felt like the launch pad had moved into his chest and each new firework was exploding against the interior of his ribcage.

It was now, or never.

Every thought fled, and he twisted, catching Juliet's face between his hands, and pressing his lips to hers.

For a moment, he was pretty sure his heart had blown up in his chest. Then it resumed thudding painfully against his chest and he couldn't tell if the colors he saw behind his eyelids were the fireworks or something else entirely. Juliet leaned into the kiss and the night instantly went from near perfection to perfection.

Small, thin fingers wound into the hair at the nape of his neck, sending electricity shooting down his spine and he couldn't stop a grin from spreading across his face. Giddy didn't even begin to describe the feeling shooting around inside him like a dozen white-hot pinballs. Juliet smiled against his mouth and his eyes opened, meeting hers again. He kissed her gently once, and then again, smoothing his thumb over her cheek and watching the light of the fireworks fall in her eyes.

Yep. This was perfection.

* * *

XDDDDDDDDDD OMJ. This one's so mushy it's not even funny. :D

XDDDD


	19. Easier Than It Looks

Sorry I haven't gotten to some of your guys' requests. I'm having some trouble with getting the ideas to pan out. :P I'll do them I swear, it just might take awhile. ; This was just something that popped into my head and I had to write it down so... I figured I'd share. :)

* * *

"Oh, like you're mad that guy is gone, Jules."

"Yes, Shawn! Yes, I am! What on earth did you think you were doing?"

"Uh, I don't know, saving you from the lamest date ever?"

"That's not your job, Shawn!"

"It's everybody's job to prevent people from going on crappy dates. It's the _burden_ of a responsible citizen. That guy shouldn't have even asked you out. He was acting totally irresponsibly."

Juliet had a difficult time fighting off a smile despite her anger. She had no idea how Shawn always managed to do that. "For your information, I was enjoying that 'crappy date' Shawn."

She was lying through her teeth.

"With that guy? Really? Did you even see his hair? It was horrible!"

Juliet bit her tongue to hide her agreement. "Oh, really. And who exactly do you think would be a worthy date for me?"

"Well, that should be obvious Jules."

"Oh, well then please, since you know absolutely everything Shawn, please, enlighten me."

"Well duh. Me."

Juliet opened her mouth to respond and stopped, surprised. She hadn't actually expected a straight answer from the psychic. She eyed him for a long moment before finally saying:

"Oh. Well, why didn't you say so?"

It was his turn to stare at her, silent for several long seconds.

"Okay, in that case, I'll say it now. Jules, I like you. Let's go on a date together."

She smiled brilliantly. "That sounds like a great idea, Shawn! And since you're already here, I've paid for these skates, and you've chased off my other date, why don't we start right here?"

A grin crept onto Shawn's face. "Let's."


	20. Surrendering

One morning I woke up with this sentence in my mind THAT WOULD NOT GO AWAY. So I wrote it down. Then I thought of another one, and I wrote that down too, and THIRTEEN OF THE LONGEST SENTENCES EVER LATER, you get this little ditty.

Hope you like it.

* * *

Shawn Spencer was the type of man who, despite your carefully constructed boundaries, despite your sensible nature, despite your _absolute opposition_ to the idea, you couldn't help falling in love with, no matter how hard you tried not to. He knew how to wiggle his way under your skin and then, despite desperate attempts to get rid of him, set up camp and before you even knew what was happening, you loved him more strongly than you could have even imagined and your mind screamed warnings at you even more frantically, but there was nothing left you could do. His hold on you was overpowering and all you could do was wait and try to keep away, hoping to soften the blow when he had finally had enough of you. Because men as charming and funny and utterly electrifying as Shawn Spencer _always_ had enough eventually.

And every time he moves too close, it tears you in two because on the one hand you want to throw yourself into him, damn the consequences, damn the broken heart, to close the small gaps between your mouths that seem to be growing in frequency and just _let go_. But then on the other hand…on the other hand, you want to push him away, scream and yell and cry and demand that he just leave you in peace because your heart can't take this kind of torture for any longer. Deep inside and late at night, when he's no longer around to see, it _hurts_, and that's when you do cry, brokenly, into your pillow as you try to sleep, because you know that Shawn Spencer will never change and he will never be yours no matter how long and how hard you might wish it.

Then one day all it takes is a look, one look into those gray-green-brown-positively-enrapturing eyes when he happens upon you on a date with another man, trying to forget that that man's brown hair isn't carefully styled the right way, and that his crooked grin isn't as cute without that poofy, adorable lower lip—and suddenly you realize that this agonizing power he holds over you _doesn't_ just go the one way. Because right now, behind that almost-convincing smile that keeps flashing onto his face, those eyes are hurt. And despite your head still screaming warnings at you, hope rises up and you smile at the shyster who you think just possibly might love you back and whisper, "This would be a lot less painful in Lego shoes." And before you turn away, you catch a glimpse of the grin you love the most, the hundred watt, devil-may-care-because-I've-_got_-this-one grin and inside you're dancing because suddenly and without warning, Shawn Spencer has changed.

Or maybe…he never changed at all.


	21. Just Ask Her Already!

I wasn't going to post this one just yet, but I reread it and decided it was a good one-shot, even if I haven't decided HOW I want Shawn to ask yet...

* * *

"Gus, I'm going to do it."

Without glancing up from the papers spread out in front of him, Gus replied, "You're going to do what? Don't say saran wrap Lassiter's car. He'd totally arrest you."

"I'm going to ask her to marry me."

"Mmmhmm, okay, just don't—_what?_" Gus looked up sharply, eyes wide, to see Shawn leaning against his desk, crushing a rubber frog, whose eyes popped out with every squeeze, in one hand as he chewed on his lower lip. "Wait, you're going to _what?_ You're going to ask—are you serious?"

Shawn looked up, meeting his gaze and nodded, a smile lined with anxiety stretching across his face. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm going to ask her."

Gus simply stared at him for a moment before putting down the papers he was holding. "That's a big deal, Shawn."

"I know."

He started chewing on his lower lip again and Gus said, "So…did you…?"

Shawn nodded. "I had lunch with her dad."

Gus' eyes widened even further. "Oh my god. You're really going to do it."

A grin flashed across Shawn's face. "Dude, your confidence in me is overwhelming. Really."

Gus winced. "No. Shawn, that's not—I just—I mean—that's _fantastic_." He got to his feet, moving across the room. "Did you get a ring?"

Shawn's grin returned, broader this time and he ducked his head, fishing around in his pocket. He pulled out a small black box and flipped it open for Gus to see. "It's nothing majorly fancy but—"

"Damn, Shawn, this is a nice ring," Gus cut in, impressed.

Shawn grinned. "Yeah?"

"Can I…?" Shawn nodded and Gus reached for the ring when—

"You know that's not legal in California, right?"

Shawn jumped, startled, and Gus snatched the box out of the air as it toppled off of his outstretched hand. "Dad..."

Henry, standing with his hands in his pockets in the doorway, continued gaze casually at the box in Gus' hand. "So you think you're ready for that, eh, kid?"

Shawn stiffened. "I—"

Henry looked up and both boys were bewildered by the smile that slid onto the elder Spencer's face. "It's about time you asked her. She's a very patient girl."

The tension in Shawn's frame seemed to flow down and out through the bottom of his sneakers and he rolled his eyes. "Gee, Dad. Thanks. I know I'm not worthy of a girl like her but you'd think I could get a little loyalty from my own father."

Henry's smile quirked into a grin for a split second. He nodded at the ring in Gus' hand, and said, "That's a nice ring."

Shawn proceeded to look very smug. "I do know a thing or two about engagement rings, Dad. There was this one time—"

"You worked in a jewelry shop, yadda yadda yadda. That's nice. Do you know how you're going to do it?"

Hazel eyes spun toward the ceiling again and Shawn said, "Dad, really, what do you take me for? I don't need you to help me plan everything. I'm a big boy now."

"Uh huh. So you have a plan?"

Shawn pursed his lips and was quiet for a long moment. "All right, _fine_," he finally burst. "No. I don't know what I'm going to do yet. I don't even know when I'm going to ask her. Happy now?"

Henry simply shrugged. "Just make sure it's something memorable."

Shawn let his head drop, expression dry. "Memorable. Really, Dad? I never would have thought to make it _memorable_. It's so much better if the girl you marry totally forgets the day you asked her, don't you think Gus? That just makes _sense!_"

Gus' expression as he handed back the ring box was one that clearly said, "_I am not getting in the middle of this_."

Henry ignored his son's little speech. "All I'm saying is that—"

"_Dad_," Shawn cut in brusquely, "What are you doing here? When I want your help on popping the question, I'll ask, okay?" He waited, looking impatient.

Sighing and rolling his own eyes, Henry said, waving one hand slightly, "You seemed…" Now he waved both hands in a fluttery gesture. "…a little _wound up_ when I talked to you this morning. I mean, obviously I know why now, but—"

"Dad, seriously. Spit it out already. Do you want me to clean the garage? Do I need to go get a check up so you'll stop being a spaz?"

Henry huffed irritably, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. "I just thought I'd take you to get a drink. It sounded like you needed it," he finally snapped.

Shawn paused, eyebrows rising slightly in surprise. "Oh."

Gus rolled his eyes and moved back to his desk to get back to work.

"Yeah, '_Oh'_," Henry retorted, eyes flicking around to eye various spots on the carpet as he stuffed his hands back into his pockets.

The two men were quiet for a long moment and then Shawn said with exaggerated reluctance, "Yeah, I _guess_…"

"Fine," Henry bit back and turned, striding for the door. Shawn followed and as the front door opened Gus heard Henry say, "That new Geronimo's place is open over on Fourth."

"Dad, really. Geronimo's? Are you serious? Do you actually want to be seen there?"

"Shawn, it's a perfectly respectable place. I…"

Gus smiled to himself as their voices faded away.


	22. Need You

This particular Mushy Moment isn't mushy in the same sense of the word as the others are, but I really enjoyed writing it and I think it turned out really well, so I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

It was inspired by one of windscryer's Snapshots and it's one of the first things I've written in the present tense. Hopefully it flows properly.

Enjoy guys!

* * *

It's been a very long day.

It's twilight now, the sun having dipped behind the horizon, leaving the sky a flawless gradient from a deep, beautiful blue to a dark, inky near-black, spotted with the faint glimmer of emerging stars. The streetlights should be coming on any minute now.

Juliet skirts around the S.B.P.D., headed for the back lot where she parked her car around six this morning, and as she does, the full extent of her exhaustion hits her. The consuming melancholy she feels is dampened only by that fatigue and she's pretty sure that's the only reason she hasn't broken down yet. She's just too tired.

She rounds the back corner of the precinct and stops suddenly in her tracks when she sees that someone is already at her car.

And for a second, the utter surprise jumpstarts her brain again, because it's Shawn Spencer of all people. He's leaning against the driver's side door of her car, his head tilted back against the roof, and she realizes that she hasn't seen him since they arrived at the high school at ten o'clock that morning.

And that worries her.

For the last week and a half they've been investigating a rape case at a local high school because a girl had come forward saying that one of the boys in her class had attacked her after band practice one afternoon. Much to everyone's surprise, Shawn formed an almost instant repertoire with the girl, persuading her to tell her story and even providing a t-shirt tissue when she could no longer hold it together. Which, because of the simple fact that he was a _man_, made that a feat in and of itself. It was the sobriety that had seamlessly developed every time he spoke to the girl that had really stunned those at the station however, and that included herself. He'd managed to talk the girl into testifying when no one else could. Everything had been falling together perfectly.

And then this morning they had gotten a call for shots fired at the high school.

"Shawn?" she says, and it comes out more hesitantly than she intended. He doesn't move.

"I've been waiting for you."

She approaches uncertainly, unsure of how to deal with this side of Shawn, but she asks, "For how long?" She can't quite see his eyes and it makes her nervous.

His mouth twitches in something she thinks is supposed to be a smile. "Eleven, maybe? I'm not sure."

They'd arrived at the high school that morning to find that the girl's rapist—one of the steroid-pumped up jockeys who seemed to think he owned the world—had gone postal in a 'roid rage. She'd been shot four times in the middle of the school cafeteria.

And now Juliet's sure that what she's seeing is a reaction to that scene. She can recall the look on Shawn's face when they stepped through the doors, now that she's thinking about it, and how his playful expression had simply fallen away, taking with it all of his color. She'd been busy then and didn't notice when he'd gone, but she couldn't remember seeing him at all after that moment. And that worries her even more, because Shawn Spencer has never run from a crime scene.

"Shawn," she starts, but he finally lifts his head, allowing her to see his face, and the words die in her throat.

His eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot, but dry, and a new crease has been carved into his forehead, etched into the space between his eyebrows. But it's his hollow expression, the guilt she can literally _see_ eating him alive that scares her the most because she's never realized before now that he feels so intensely.

Without thinking, she drops her bag to the pavement, her arms flying up and around his body, pulling his head to her shoulder, and she doesn't realize until they've crashed to their knees that the car was the only thing holding him up. If he's in pain, he doesn't say anything.

"Shawn, this is not your fault," she whispers fiercely in his ear and his arms come around her, pulling her body to his so tightly that she almost can't breathe, his face buried at the base of her neck.

"That's what Gus said," he mumbles into her throat. "He doesn't understand."

"Doesn't understand what?" she asks.

"That it _is_ my fault. That Sarah _died_—" He chokes on the word, hands tightening. "—because of me."

"That's not true," Juliet insists, "You didn't kill her—"

"No, but I played a part in her death. I knew that creep had been threatening her and I chose to believe he was harmless. I was responsible for keeping her safe; she _trusted_ me. I should have done something. I gambled with that girl's life, Jules," he whispers, his lips still speaking into her neck. "And she lost it."

Juliet remembers the first case one of her mistakes cost someone their life. Theresa Brown, mother of two, a boy and a girl; she'd misjudged the desperation of a cornered drug dealer and before she'd even been able to blink, Theresa's life was spilling out onto the deck of a high-powered motorboat. She'd had nightmares for two weeks straight. Even now, after a particularly rough day, she has them on occasion.

The required therapy, daily conversations with her parents, and two months of deskwork had pulled her through that very tough time. She's seen a number of good cops who simply couldn't cope with the trauma though, and it's shocking to discover that Shawn Spencer, with all of his cavalier treatment of crime scenes, is affected as deeply by his first big mistake as she was. The first one still hurts more than any of the others so it's easy to empathize.

She squeezes him more tightly and says, voice soft, "I understand. But it's _not_ your fault Shawn. You made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes."

He snorts angrily and she feels his hands clench into fists behind her back. "I don't. I can't. Not like this…"

She forces him back, taking his face firmly between her hands and says harshly, "No, Shawn. That's not how it works. Everyone makes mistakes. And sometimes—" Her voice breaks. "—sometimes people die because of our mistakes. But no matter how good you are you will make them. You have to remember that or you'll never learn from those mistakes. And you have got to remember that Sarah's death was _not your fault_."

Shawn suddenly looks furious, eyes blazing, and for a second she's scared that he's going to hurt her when his hands clench around her wrists. But they're shaking and she knows immediately that he's got fierce control over the force he's using because his grip is tight but not painful. It's his voice he can't seem to manage and it cracks as it rises. "_Not my fault?_ She called me the night before and in _tears_ told me that that bastard Wells threatened to rape her again and then kill her and throw her body in the bay for God's sake! How is it not my fault? I should have seen it coming! I should've— _DAMNIT!_" he yells and the venom in his voice is nearly overpowered by the grief. "I should've—I should've—"

Juliet's forehead creases, and she pulls her arms free of his grip to wrap them around his figure. "It's okay," she whispers. "It's okay, Shawn."

His head falls unwillingly back onto her shoulder and in a barely audible voice he replies, "No. It's not."

She doesn't know what to say to that, so she says nothing, does nothing but maintain her hold on him. It's dark now and she has no idea how long they've been sitting here in the parking lot, and tired as she is, she couldn't care less, because right now a good friend needs her and that's all that matters.

For a long time he's quiet, his breathing more audible than it should be if she's to believe that he's calmed down, hitching almost inaudibly on occasion. Finally he mumbles into her shirt, his breath heating the slightly damp fabric and beneath it her skin, his voice thick, "Sorry. You wanted to go home didn't you?" He laughs, but it sounds rough and wrong, and she presses a hand to his head, her fingers mingling with his hair.

"If you need me to stay here all night, Shawn, I will," she says seriously. "You're always there for me, and I'm not going to drop the ball now."

He laughs again, weakly, and with far less humor than usual, but he doesn't have to strain for it this time and that's a good sign. "Actually," he says and his voice is slightly sheepish now, "I haven't eaten in... Would you…would you be up for pancakes?"

"IHOP?" she guesses and smiles slightly when he says with obvious relief, "You read my mind."

They don't move for another long moment and then Shawn's hands loosen and slip from around her waist. He coughs, trying to cover the sound of a sniffle, and she pretends not to notice, instead focusing her attention on her forgotten purse. He's not looking at her and Juliet understands that this is a breakdown he didn't intend to have, and she's careful to act like she has no idea that anything's changed. She gets to her feet and he moves to follow, but hisses, his limbs protesting after having been forced into such an awkward position for so long.

"Ouch," she says sympathetically and helps him force his joints to do what they're told, steadying him as he works the muscles back into submission.

Shawn finally looks at her and she's glad to see that the crease between his eyes has softened. It's not gone, but it's not nearly as sharp as before and that's another good sign. She squeezes his hand and smiles. "I bet I can guess what you're going to have."

His smile comes even more easily this time and when he speaks, the lighthearted tone she knows so well is making a comeback. "It shouldn't be hard Jules, I think I'm going to order everything on the menu."

She laughs and gestures to the passenger side of the car. "Well, get in. I'm hungry too you know."

His mouth turns up in a hesitant grin and he turns to do as she asks. Then he pauses, turns back, and his face has gone serious again. He puts his hand over hers on the door frame and with a swallow, his eyes fixed on the asphalt at their feet, he says quietly, "Thanks, Jules."

"Anytime, Shawn," she says, and her voice is just as soft as his.

Their eyes meet again and she knows that he's made it past the worst of it.


	23. Kindling

Just another random idea. XD

* * *

It's funny, because in the end, it's not Shawn who convinces her. No, despite the fact that she tells everyone that she finally just couldn't take the incessant asking any more, it's simply not true. For two weeks prior to the official "giving-in", she weighed and measured each request, and then discarded them. Because she had decided, as of September twenty-third, that Shawn Spencer had the okay for dating material.

And she'll probably never tell anyone, but really, it was Gus who finally convinced her. And he hadn't even known he was doing his friend a favor.

"This is incredible," Gus had remarked as he stood by her side, watching Shawn in the throes of a vision that had him almost literally chasing the head detective around the bullpen.

"What is?" Juliet asked, watching avidly and trying very hard not to smile as Lassiter swatted at the fake psychic with a wad of papers. "The vision? It doesn't seem so unusual."

Gus snorted. "No, not the vision. Definitely not the vision. No. This is our third anniversary, Juliet."

She looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Shawn and I," he clarified and then further, "and Psych. This is the third anniversary of the day Shawn first got the lease for Psych."

Juliet continued to stare, non-plussed. "So?"

"So?" Gus repeated and then shook his head. "Detective, this is the first time since we were _seventeen_ that Shawn has lived in a single place—in a single _state_—for more than six months. And he's never held a job this long."

It was easy to see that Shawn had a restless spirit. At the very least, an active spirit. But that was the first time Juliet realized just _how_ restless. And even more what it meant that he had stuck around Santa Barbara and this job as a psychic.

Gus shrugged, oblivious to the new light he had shed for the junior detective. "It's amazing. I honestly never thought I'd see the day when Shawn settled down. Well, settled down for him anyway. And I know it has something to do with this job, but I get the feeling sometimes that it's more than that."

And that was when the psychic's gaze had met hers, eyes twinkling from where he was shying away from Lassiter's weapon of choice, and she had known that it was time to give him his chance.

So it's funny, because Shawn is the one she loves, the one she lives and breathes for now, the one who literally makes her days and her nights. But it was Gus, with a few innocuous comments, who kindled the flame.


	24. Halloweenie

I wrote this for Halloween. Seeing as I'm really behind on my posting here, it's clearly _not_ Halloween now. Oh well. XD

* * *

Blood exploded from his stomach.

Juliet shrieked in surprise, backing hastily away from the glass now splattered with the red liquid and the snarling, chain-draped man pressed up against the glass, eyes locked on her, and collided with Shawn.

He laughed. And if her hand hadn't been clutched tightly in his clammy grip, and she hadn't felt him jerk at the same moment she had, she probably would have smacked him. "Dude, nice," Shawn said as they observed the intestines hanging from the inmate's stomach in the dim, faintly pulsing lighting. She ducked her head to hide a smile when her companion in Santa Barbara's Hospital of Horrors jumped again as the eviscerated man behind the glass slammed his hands against the barrier. "_Holy_—"

He yanked her beyond the man's cell, his grip tightening just slightly on her hand. Locked at the elbow, his arm kept her close beside him and she bit her lip, trying not to laugh because she could feel his pulse pounding in his fingers, and it was going at twice the normal rate. "This is fun, isn't it?" she said softly, and he flinched at her fingers on his neck. Some where behind them someone let out a blood-curdling scream and he shot a nervous glance over his shoulder, trying desperately to play it cool.

"Oh, yeah," he muttered, squinting as he peered into the darkness enveloping them, stepping carefully around a pile of bones smeared with something red, and edging nervously past a darkened pane of glass that most certainly was another inmate's cell. "Loads of fun. The screaming and the cool lights and the fake blood and the _screaming_..."

Juliet grinned and one hand slipped up to grab suddenly at his ribs. He jerked, a stifled cry leaping from his mouth before he could stop it and his head whipped to the side as she tried to muffle her giggling.

"Dude, that is so not funny!"

She bit her lip, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Oh, I don't know. I thought it was pretty amusing."

"Haha, just because I'm humoring you and allowing myself to get a little worked up—"

Juliet laughed outright at that, the sound turning to a shriek that she could barely hear over Shawn's screaming beside her as the mutilated figure of a woman slammed into the glass wall of a cell they were passing, the lights exploding to life as she let out her own hair-raising scream.

"_OH SH_—" Another scream of terror escaped Shawn, his free hand moving to clench at her shoulder and pulling her between himself and the cackling escapee with an enormous silver knife that glinted fearsomely in the low light as he raced past them.

It was too much and Juliet burst out laughing, her heart pounding against her chest rapidly and tears of mirth collecting in the corners of her eyes.

"_Not funny!_" Shawn exclaimed, now hustling her around a corner, his movements even jerkier and his voice higher than she remembered it.

She couldn't stop laughing though, even as they both leapt away from a doctor with a huge needle who popped out from behind a nearby divider as they moved through a doorway, a maniacal grin on his face.

Shawn made a sound in the back of his throat that sounded a lot like a whimper and muttered, "You are so going to pay for this, O'Hara. You are going to pay up _so hard! _How did you manage to talk me into this? HOW?"

"You're soft," Juliet responded between giggles, "All I did was pout a little."

"Never again," he vowed, and howled, pulling her close as something that walked in a vaguely humanoid manner, but looked nothing like a human being leapt down on them with a shriek from somewhere to their right. The pale face of...whatever it was, dripping blood from various extraordinarily nasty looking gouges, was thrust into Shawn's, barely an inch between them. Juliet muffled a snigger with her hand as Shawn shuddered, trying unsuccessfully to get away from the creature now aiming hot and heavy breathing at his cheek. "Dude, ever heard of personal space?" he muttered weakly, and shrank away again as the creature's hand jumped suddenly toward his face. "_Okay! _Time to go!" he exclaimed, and Juliet was dragged helplessly along, once again overtaken by laughter, as he tore through the two remaining rooms of the Hospital of Horror, barely sparing a twitch for the four or five crazed and bloodied inmates trying to overwhelm them as they bolted for the exit.

They didn't slow until they were a good thirty or forty feet from the trailers that contained the Halloween attraction. Shawn sniffed archly as he worked to get his breathing back under control, his back straightening as he struggled to get some semblance of his dignity back. "Whoa," he breathed, "That was intense, yeah, Jules? I heard you screaming. It's okay. I won't tell anyone."

She snorted, a giggle slipping from beneath her hand, and he shot her a slightly resentful look, his lower lip already edging it's way out.

"I know you are not laughing at me. I only did all that to humor you Jules. Your hand was all clammy. I knew you were scared," he said and she bit her lip to keep from laughing again.

"Oh, of course," she said, nodding seriously. "I was terrified. I'm so relieved that we got out of there. It was way too scary." She stifled another smile by laying a light kiss on his lips.

He seemed appeased by this reaction and she hid a smile as he discreetly switched the hand holding hers, wiping the other on his jeans. "I'm starved," he announced.

Juliet smiled and said innocently, "There's a concessions stand right outside the entrance to the Endless Wandering Maze..."

"Yeah...how about _no?_" he said, shooting her a dirty look and she laughed, sliding her arms around his waist.

"But it's so much fun getting to be the guy," she teased.

"Make no mistake, Jules. I like you, but I have connections, and I will have you taken out if necessary. We will never speak of this Hospital of Horrors again."

"Only if we can go rent the Halloween movies."

Shawn grimaced. "_All_ of them?"

"All of them."

His face pinched as he considered his options, before finally muttering, "Oh, fine. We can rent the stupid movies."

Juliet grinned, squeezing his arm and kissing his jawline. "My hero."

* * *

I adore sissy Shawn. XD


	25. Better Together

It was the end of the semester, and as per usual, time for my biannual blues. The stress of not knowing whether or not I'm doing well in my classes and just general wintery moodiness always strikes around the end of the semester, and it was bumming me out oneafternoon. Hooray for being an emotional basket-case. rolls eyes

I was talking to Jenn and confessed that I was feeling less than cheery and she wanted to help me feel better. I decided that I needed to write something utterly and excessively mushy, because a good chunk of sappy no-holds-barred romance always makes me feel better. I was clean out of ideas though, and Jenn suggested several things. This was the one that struck me hardest.

So I spewed out this total gush-fest of holiday mushy goodness. It succeeded in it's task, with the assistance of my BFF Jill (aka Jenn) and I thus present it to you, because she said she would do something really painful (I can't remember exactly what...) if I didn't.

So thank you Jenn, you srsly are the best BFF Jill I could ask for, and you are SUPERB at cheering me up. YOU PWN GIRL!

* * *

Juliet wrapped her hands around a toasty mug of hot chocolate, curling up on the couch. It wasn't all that cold outside, even in December, but then, it never got particularly cold in Santa Barbara. The mug of hot chocolate was warm and reassuring though, and helped ease the heavy weight in her chest.

It had begun creeping up on her after Thanksgiving, the way it always did. This particular time of year, between Thanksgiving and Christmas always came with a bittersweet touch. Her grandfather had passed away the year of her sixteenth Christmas and they had always been close, so it was a hard thing. Even now, almost thirteen years later, it still hurt to have to see the beginning of the Christmas season springing to life around her without him there to share it with her.

Her eyes began to prickle with moisture and she took a sip of the warm mixture in her hands, trying to swallow the lump growing in her throat. Now was a bad time to be alone.

And as if on cue, the doorbell rang.

She sniffled a little, blinking rapidly a few times to try and clear her vision before unfolding her legs as she set the mug on the coffee table and padding across the floor to answer the door.

Pulling it open, she paused, surprised. He really _was_ psychic.

Shawn smiled warmly back at her, a striped scarf hanging from where it was tucked beneath the collar of his brown leather jacket. His bike was parked at the curb in front of her house, a tiny wreath with a large red ribbon hanging from the back of the seat. The air outside was just nippy enough to have turned his cheeks pink on the drive over and it gave him a warm rosy glow. "Hey," he said, his voice soft. It was easy to see that he knew exactly how she felt tonight. He was too perceptive for his own good.

She struggled to keep her composure—it was silly to be crying—but it was a loosing battle, and she fell into his arms, which came up at just the right moment to pull her against his chest.

Usually this breakdown was something that she reserved for private moments, late at night, when no one could see her falling apart, but that never stopped her from yearning to have a warm body that she could cry into. Shawn had exactly the comforting feel that she had always longed for.

He held her close, one hand on the back of her head and the other pressing against her back, his body warm against hers and his mouth breathing reassurances into her ear. With each hitching breath her nose filled with the soothing scent of his leather jacket as it mingled with the faint smells of his shampoo and soap and detergent.

She had no idea how long she cried into his shirt, clinging to him like a lifeline, but when the tears finally ebbed she felt better than she had in over a week. She sniffled, her forehead resting against his shoulder and her hands tangled inside his jacket and around his waist. He gave her a moment and then shifted, taking her face in his hands and tenderly wiping the lingering tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.

"Better?" he murmured.

She nodded, tempted to let her eyes slide shut so that she could focus on the feeling of his hands on her face. "Better," she whispered.

He nodded and laid a gentle, lingering kiss on her forehead. "Get your coat," he said quietly, and the twinkle of a smile was back in his eyes. "I have a surprise for you."

Grabbing her coat off of the nearby rack, she couldn't help being curious as to what Shawn had planned. He helped her slide it on and then took her hand, his own heating her icy fingers rapidly.

"Come on," he said and they stepped outside, the door closing behind them. The air outside was wonderfully crisp, making her nose and cheeks tingle. It was amazing how a little chill in the air and the soft glow from the strings of colored lights on the houses in the neighborhood could make it feel so exquisitely like Christmas.

"Where are we going?" she asked. He simply smiled in return and led her around the side of the house. She gasped when they rounded the back corner, her eyes going wide as she took in the spectacle that Shawn had created.

An enormous Christmas tree had been erected in the center of her small backyard, and then draped with a spectacular array of tinsel, ornaments, and sparkling lights that scattered their multihued glow across the entire yard. "Your grandfather always said the best view was from beneath the Christmas tree, didn't he?" Shawn whispered in her ear.

Tears sprang to Juliet's eyes all over again and she whirled, her hand leaping to Shawn's jaw and pulling him into a fervent kiss. "Thank you," she breathed. "Thank you, Shawn, this is beautiful. It's perfect."

He grinned, kissing her forehead again. "Come on. I want to lay here with you, and see just what your granddad was talking about."

Crossing the yard, the pair of them got down on their knees, Shawn lying down beneath the tree first before beckoning her to lie down at the crook of his shoulder. Snuggling close to his side, Juliet kissed his cheek as she settled in. Even knowing Shawn as she did, she couldn't believe that he had remembered what she had said about her grandfather. As she looked up into the tree to see the sparkle of the lights reflecting on the silvery tinsel, the familiar pricking in the corners of her eyes returned. Grandpa had always been right. It was so beautiful down here. He had promised her that one day she would find someone to share this special view with and now…

Her hand sought out Shawn's, interlocking their fingers and he smiled, pressing his cheek gently to her temple.

He pulled her closer to him, never taking his eyes off of her face, memorizing every sparkle of light in her glassy eyes.

"Yep," he whispered. "The best view is definitely down here."


	26. In Time of Need

Took me forever to get this one done. Started it sometime last Christmas break, thought it was crappy, abandonded it, finally reread it and liked it, finished it, and then decided it was kinda boring. sc, windscryer, and Jenn1984 however disagreed.

So here you go. A new mushy moment after much drama. XDDDD

* * *

Thunderstorms were rare in Santa Barbara, but the occasional tropical storm did sweep through the city and Juliet was curled up on the couch in her living room with a blanket, a mug of hot tea, and _Overboard_, one of her favorite movies, enjoying the sound of thunder rumbling over the pounding of rain on the roof. Thunderstorms were much more common in Miami, and she had always loved them, so being able to experience one again was a little like being home again.

She was admiring an irate, sopping wet Kurt Russell when a sudden pounding on the door made her jump. For several long seconds, she simply stared at the door wondering who on earth would pay her a visit at this hour, but when the pounding simply increased in intensity, she got up, letting the blanket fall to the couch. She moved to the door, pushing up onto her toes to peer out the peephole and was astonished to see Shawn Spencer hunched outside her door, soaked from head to toe. Frowning, she unlocked the door and pulled it open.

"Shawn? What are you—"

"Jules!" he exclaimed and the relief in his voice worried her. "Can I—?" He gestured at the inside of the house.

"Oh—yeah, come in, Shawn," she said and he smiled gratefully. He stepped inside and she realized that not only was he wet, he was shivering. She closed the door behind him and put a hand around his back. "Come on, you're soaked."

He responded with a sneeze. "Sorry," he said. "I'm getting your house all wet Jules."

She smiled slightly as she led him into the bathroom. "It's tile. I can wipe it up. What are you doing out in this weather?"

Shawn sneezed again and said, "I was getting dinner. But my bike broke down. Your house was the closest."

"Dinner at this hour?"

"Well, technically, I got dinner over an hour ago. And if you really want to be technical, I guess it was Fourth Meal, since it was midnight, and Taco Bell. But then there was a lot of storming, and walking, and _storming_, oh, and throwing away soggy dinner… And yeah. Did I mention the storming?"

She smiled slightly. "And how exactly do you know where I live?" she asked, handing him a towel.

He grinned. "I think a better question is why haven't I been here before?"

Shawn's hands shook as he began awkwardly drying his hair and Juliet watched him struggle for a moment before rolling her eyes and grabbing the towel. She wrapped her hand around one of his and gasped. "Shawn, your hands are freezing. How long were you out there?"

He shrugged smiling sheepishly. "I dunno. Maybe an hour?"

"_An hour? _Shawn! Why didn't you call someone?"

He pulled his sodden phone out of his pocket. "Well, the battery was dead. Even if it wasn't, I don't know how well it would work now."

Juliet rolled her eyes. "Has anyone ever told you that you're impossible?"

She saw a flash of a grin before she tossed the towel over his head and began vigorously drying his hair. "All the time," he replied cheerfully, voice muffled. He then sneezed again.

"See? Now you're sick. That's what you get."

"Gee, Jules, I appreciate your sympathy."

She smiled and pulled the towel back, letting it fall around his shoulders. "You stay here and get out of those wet clothes and I'll see if I can find anything you can wear."

"Aw, Jules, you don't have to do that. I just need a ride—"

She laughed. "And what makes you think I'm going out in this weather? Unless you want to call someone at—" She glanced at the clock on the wall. "Quarter after one, you can sleep in the spare room."

Shawn smiled, bemused. "Okay. Thanks, Jules."

"Just get those clothes off."

His parting remark as she shut the door was another tremendous sneeze.

In her bedroom she rooted around in her drawers, pulling out an old hand-me-down t-shirt from her oldest brother that she often used as a night shirt because it was so large. She bit her lip as she straightened up. It was going to be harder to find bottoms. She pulled a pair of sweat pants out of another drawer and held them up, eying them critically.

She imagined what Shawn would look like in them and immediately snorted. No, those wouldn't work. She tossed them on the bed and tapped her bottom lip with a finger thoughtfully. If she remembered correctly, her littlest brother had left a pair of boxers behind the last time he visited. She headed toward the guest bedroom where she thought she might find them.

"Jules?"

She paused at the door, looking down the hall to see Shawn peering out at her from the bathroom. "Yes?"

"Do you have any cold medicine?" He sniffled. "My nose is running like crazy and my head is killing me."

She smiled. "Yeah, it's in the medicine cabinet in my bathroom. I'll bring you some as soon as I grab your dry clothes."

"Thanks," he said and after staring at her for a moment, he slipped back into the bathroom.

She moved into the spare bedroom and checked each of the drawers in the bureau, finally finding the boxers in the bottom one. She grabbed them, pushing the drawer shut with her foot before going back to her own bathroom to retrieve the medicine.

After getting the pills she returned to the bathroom door, knocking quietly. It cracked open and she had to hide a smile when Shawn peeked out, his drying hair fuzzy and his nose red. "Here. The boxers are my little brother's, I hope you don't mind. They're clean."

He smiled faintly, sniffling. "Mind sharing intimates with one of your brothers? Definitely not. Is he pretty like you?"

She pursed her lips and dropped the pills into his hand. "Get dressed Shawn."

He smiled and she heard him sneeze again as he closed the door. She rolled her eyes and went to wait in the kitchen, calling back, "Shawn, do you want tea, hot chocolate, or Seven-Up?"

"You actually have Seven-Up, Jules?"

"Yes. Don't you?"

"Seven-Up is a sick drink. I don't keep it around the house."

She smirked. "Well, you're sick, so I guess maybe it's a good thing I do. Which would you like?"

"I'll try some tea. I think my liver is still frozen and at least that'll thaw my insides."

As she began steeping the tea, she called again, "What about food? Are you hungry?"

"Mm, no, I don't think so."

"I thought you said you didn't eat."

"I didn't. But you're making me nauseous just talking about eating."

He shuffled out a moment later and she glanced at him, eyes sweeping quickly over his figure. The boxers seemed to fit okay, and the shirt was a little large, even on him. "How do they fit? Okay?"

"Yeah, Jules, perfect." He sneezed several times successively and she moved over, holding out the steaming mug of tea.

"Here. How are you feeling?"

"Lousy," he said honestly. "But I'm getting warm again, I guess that's something."

"I'll get you a blanket and a pillow."

"No, Jules, you were watching something. You don't have to do that. Really."

"Shawn. Don't be ridiculous, I can—"

"Hold that thought," he muttered and set the coffee mug on the counter before running back down the hall.

Juliet's face creased faintly with worry and she started after the fake psychic, grimacing when she heard the sound of him retching. She stepped back, pulling a glass from the cupboard before moving down the hall and slipping into the bathroom. Shawn's face was hidden by the toilet seat, but she could see his stomach convulsing as it forced itself empty and she knelt beside him, placing a gentle hand on his back. He had to have been sick before this, and going out in the icy rain had only exacerbated the illness.

It took a few minutes for his body to finally relax, his breathing heavy and his arms trembling as he forced them to hold his weight. "Sorry," he muttered, grimacing at the taste of bile in his mouth.

"It's not your fault," she said, and held out a glass of water. "Here."

He accepted the glass gratefully, taking a mouthful and rinsing his mouth before taking a tentative drink.

"How is your stomach feeling? Do you think you'll be okay for a little while?"

Shawn considered his now empty stomach and nodded wearily. "I think so. Sorry I wasted your drugs."

She smiled, getting to her feet. "Don't worry about it. I'm just sorry they won't be helping you feel better. Come on. Let's get you into the spare room. You look exhausted."

He sneezed, grimacing unhappily and said, "Actually, I'd still like to have that tea if you don't mind me sitting up with you."

Juliet smiled. "All right, I'll grab the blanket from the spare room and I'll meet you out there. Take the wastebasket with you."

"Man. Being sick is so undignified," Shawn complained, retrieving the trash can.

Juliet's laughter echoed down the hall.

* * *

He was sprawled on the far end of the couch when she returned, the mug of hot tea clutched in his hands, close to his chest and the wastebasket on the floor just in front of him. She tossed the blanket over his body and his head twisted slightly, glassy gaze meeting hers. "Thanks," he mumbled, and sounded even more stuffed up than before.

She felt terrible for him. "No problem." She set a box of tissues on the floor beside the wastebasket as she sat down on the couch beside him, pulling her own blanket close around her. "Are you sure you don't just want to go to bed?" she asked.

"Trust me, Jules. I'm gonna sleep better on this couch with a movie playing than I would in a bed when I'm feeling like this."

"All right, if you say so," she said with dubious shrug.

"Ooh, _Overboard_," Shawn said appreciatively as she pressed the play button and she smiled. "Goldie Hawn is _awesome_." He sneezed violently into a tissue.

It was distracting, having him there on the end of the couch. She couldn't help glancing over every so often to check on him, but the feeble laughter that often dissolved into a bout of coughing and the sound of him blowing his nose provided enough of a reassurance. He seemed okay, if under the weather. Soon the movie had recaptured her full attention.

She didn't notice when Shawn went quiet, but when she looked over again, he was curled up on one side, his head on the arm of the chair, mouth slightly open and his eyelashes feathery and dark against the pale blue tint of his skin, cast by the light of the television. She smiled and took a moment to watch him sleep, his chest rising and falling shallowly. He looked young, despite the scruffy five o'clock shadow on his jaw and far more innocent than she had ever seen him look.

It was impossible to stop her heart from softening.

She got to her feet, careful not to disturb him and gently tugged the blanket crumpled around his ankles up and over his shoulders. He shifted slightly, soft pink lips murmuring something indecipherable, but he slept on. She smiled and gently brushed back the fringe on his forehead. He really could be very sweet when he wanted. Or when he was unconscious.

With one last look at the sleeping psychic, she switched off the TV and shuffled off down the hall.


	27. Sanctuary

Procrastinating from finishing Kidnapped, I've been asking for prompts/ideas and Jenn gave me this one.

Enjoysies. :D

* * *

Shawn turned, one foot on a rock at the edge of Santa Barbara beach, and held out his hand. "I wanna show you something, Jules. Come with me?"

Juliet smiled and accepted Shawn's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Of course."

Shawn returned the smile, but it flickered, and she could see tiny lines around his eyes that usually only appeared when he was worried or stressed. She couldn't help being a little concerned, but he seemed intent on showing her whatever it was they were going to see.

Following him onto the rocks framing the beach, she climbed carefully after him, relying on his sturdy hand around hers. After about five minutes of creeping along the rocky shore, they came to a small stretch of beach bordered on either side by the rocks. The sharp ten foot rise in the shore behind the small beach gave it a private, secluded feel.

"Wow," Juliet breathed as they walked onto the sand and she reached down, slipping off her shoes. The sand was soft and warm beneath her feet. "Shawn, this is fantastic."

He smiled faintly and, with his eyes on the sand, said, "Yeah. This was where I role-played Quasimodo in the bell tower and claimed sanctuary when I was in high school." His tone almost sounded jocular, but something in his voice gave him away.

Juliet's head tilted slightly and she stepped closer to him, squeezing his hand. "Sanctuary?" she said softly.

Shawn cleared his throat, his eyes still skipping around the shoreline, avoiding looking at her, and he dropped down onto the beach, stretching his feet out into the edge of the surf, his toes playing in the wet sand.

Juliet followed suit, sitting close beside him, her hands wrapped around his. Shawn hadn't said anything yet but she could already tell exactly what sort of emotions were associated with this place and while it made her heart ache that he had needed a sanctuary like this where he could be completely alone, she was overwhelmed by the fact that he had brought her here and was exposing himself like this.

For a long time the pair stayed quiet, Juliet lightly tracing her fingers over Shawn's hand, keeping her own eyes on the blue water stretched out for miles in front of them and waiting for Shawn to make the first move.

Without warning, he said hastily, his voice low, "I used to come here when my parents fought."

Juliet turned her head carefully to look at him and stayed quiet, simply giving his hand a gentle squeeze, offering her silent support.

"I had to get out when they fought. There were still times when I couldn't anticipate their fights and there was no where to go, but whenever I could get away, I came here." He paused, his free hand moving to cover his mouth for a moment before he continued, his voice raw. "I didn't want to remember them yelling at each other. Yelling about me. It was better to go somewhere quiet. Somewhere there was nothing to remember."

Now it made sense to her why the sound of the waves always put a faintly melancholy edge into him. He associated the sound with running away, with his parents fights, with their divorce.

Shawn's mouth twitched in a slight smile. "Not even Gus knows about this place. I could never tell him. He was always really good about everything, even though he didn't quite get it, but I could never tell him I came out here to get away." The ache in Juliet's chest only increased. He had brought her here. No one else knew about this private place where he spent some of his darkest moments, and here he was, sharing it with her, rehashing terrible memories for her. Her throat tightened painfully and she pulled his head closer, kissing him slowly and deliberately and trying to convey how much it meant to her, what he had done.

He returned the kisses without budging, letting her direct him, her arms warm and reassuring around his body. He let go, letting her hold him up, letting her keep him close, letting her be the strength he didn't have. It was all too much, being here again, with her.

He laughed thickly when they parted, his head bowing between their interlocked figures, and muttered, "Wow. Sorry. This is…totally pathetic."

"No, Shawn," she replied, bending her head beside his and letting her hands rub slowly along his back. "No it's not. You're stronger than you've ever been."

Shawn snorted, but when he tilted his head slightly so that their eyes could meet he said softly, "Of course I am."

He didn't have to say more.


	28. You and I

I wanted to write something mushy, so what did I write? Something angsty.

* * *

His breath came in sharp, short bursts, lungs burning as they tried to take in the oxygen they had been struggling to pull in for the last ten terrifying minutes. His legs still twitched and tingled, still working to keep him running, even to the point of exhaustion, despite the fact that he was on his knees now, bent over her, his hands gently but frantically moving to cup her face.

A thumb brushed over her cheek, hazel eyes darting back and forth, scanning her face rapidly and he breathed, "Oh, come on, come on Jules, wake up. Wake up, now, please."

Her skin was warm and soft against his fingertips, a faint but reassuring throb against the palm pressed to her neck. Her eyelashes fluttered and then slid open, a soft moan seeping from between her lips. "…Shawn?" she mumbled, disoriented.

"Oh, god, Jules," he replied, only pressing closer to her, his voice weak with relief. "I thought…oh _god_, Jules…" His head dropped, forehead touching hers and he closed his eyes tightly, taking dangerously deep breaths, inhaling the scent of her, sweat and shampoo and powder, warm and _alive_.

"Shawn," she mumbled again, still sounding dazed and her trembling fingers brushed his thigh, electricity exploding through him.

His eyes opened, taking in the bewildered blue irises looking back at him, memorizing the tiny variations, the spikes of color, the darkening and lightening of the blue and even the small specks of pale brown. "You're alive," he breathed, and his voice trembled, cracking.

Her forehead creased slightly and she said, "Of course I—"

She was cut off as Shawn pressed his mouth to hers, his hand reaching out to curl hers within his own and pull it against his chest. His lips were warm and soft, and her hand splayed on his chest, on the edge of pushing him away, feeling his racing heartbeat through the fabric. Her first thought was that she should stop him, that this was _wrong_, but the desperation and careful passion of the kisses and his mouth insistent and reassuring and utterly disarming was too much to fight.

When he finally relented, his breathing was harsh and he pressed his cheek to one of her temples, a hand against the opposite side of her face, his touch gentle but firm.

"It's time to talk about you and I, Jules," he murmured.

She turned her head and kissed him again.


	29. Primping

Wrote this a little while ago for Jenn1984. :)

* * *

Shawn smiled in amusement as Juliet closed the bedroom door behind them. "Afraid someone is going to burst in on us while you're dressing?"

Juliet shot him a look and bent to pull off her heels as she headed into the closet.

"I'm just saying," Shawn said, stripping off his t-shirt as he trailed after her.

His fingers were milliseconds from releasing it onto the floor when Juliet called, "Hamper, Shawn."

Rolling his eyes, he sidetracked slightly and leaned into the bathroom to drop the shirt into the hamper as directed.

"Which do you think?" Juliet asked when he joined her in the closet, and turned with two dresses in hand, one a short, swishy black dress, the other a vivid pink that he remembered fit her like a dream.

He pursed his lips, weighing the pros and cons of each, recalling the last time he'd seen her wearing them. And then he remembered the lack of a back on the halter-top black dress and the decision was made. "The black one."

Juliet's mouth puckered in a small smile as she put back the pink dress. "You just like seeing all that skin."

Shawn grinned. "I am shamelessly infatuated with it, I will not deny that. Can I help it if you've got the sexiest back in the world?"

She blushed faintly and nudged him in the ribs as she moved back out into the bedroom. "Shut up and get ready, you pig."

Shawn made a growling noise in response, and chuckled to himself as he turned to search through his clothing for the suit he was going to need. He was in the middle of tugging off his jeans when Juliet returned. He froze and said, "My, my, it seems you've caught me in an incredibly compromising position."

Juliet bit back a smile and wiggled the hand holding the two ends of her halter top. "Do you mind?"

A slow smile curved Shawn's mouth and he shook off the remaining length of his jeans to move closer. "It would be my pleasure."

"Just a small bow," Juliet directed, and turned so that he could take the ties. She smiled as his hands smoothed methodically over the two strips of fabric, taking advantage of this chance to touch, his fingers warm against her skin. He took his time, carefully tying the bow at the back of her neck and then gently slid his hands down to rest on her shoulders. She felt a chill scamper down her spine when he pressed his lips softly to the back of her neck, just below the bow.

"Good?" he said.

She smiled and turned, kissing his cheek. "Perfect. Thank you."

His fingers trailed along her ribcage as she moved back out of the closet and she caught a glimpse of him standing and staring after her out of the corner of her eye. She smiled. She loved it when she caught him looking at her with that _look_ in his eyes.

In the bathroom, she half-sat on the countertop and began meticulously applying her evening makeup. She was still putting on mascara when Shawn sidled in, threading a tie around the popped collar of his crisp, white shirt. He paused, his head cocking as he took her in, working intently.

When her eyes finally flicked over, an eyebrow rising in question, he shrugged with a faint air of self-consciousness and cleared his throat. "Sorry. Just watching."

A smile tugged at the corners of Juliet's mouth. "Watching?"

Shawn shifted, clearing his throat again. "Yeah. You… I like watching you put your makeup on." He began fiddling with his tie, staring fixedly at his reflection in the mirror.

Juliet smiled and slid across the counter, taking his tie in her own hands and beginning to tie it herself, perfectly aware of his hand when it settled lightly on her thigh. "Oh you do?" She'd caught Shawn glancing at her while she put on her makeup before, but he glanced and stared and ogled her all the time, so it had never seemed unusual. "Why is that?" she asked, carefully tightening the tie.

His gaze met hers. "You're beautiful, Jules, no matter what, but watching you put on makeup…it's like watching you transform. You start out gorgeous and with a few magical swipes of powders and other mysterious womanly things, which I will _never_ comprehend, you become a knock out."

Juliet grinned, cheeks flushing with pleasure, and pulled him forward by the immaculately finished tie, pressing a kiss to his mouth as her hands gently flipped down the collar of his shirt.

She sighed softly when they parted and ran her fingers lightly through his hair. "Oh, Shawn," she breathed. "I love you so much."

He grinned and returned the kiss as a light peck. "For which I am spectacularly grateful. I love you too, Jules."


	30. Carver

Shorter than I like to post, but smush nonetheless. :D

* * *

"Shawn," Juliet said. "What are you doing?"

Shawn didn't look up from his delicate task, working carefully to form the proper shape. "What does it look like, Jules? I'm eternalizing our love."

"You're vandalizing, Shawn."

Shawn finished the second half of the heart carved around _S J 4evr_ and leaned back to admire the barely legible carving on the tree. "This is not vandalism, Jules. It's an expression of our love for all the world to see. How can you be so unappreciative?"

Juliet smiled as he put his arm around her waist and she scrutinized the carving. "…It is sweet. But it's still vandalism."

Shawn smirked and leaned in close, his voice low. "Well, what are you going to do about it, Detective? Arrest me?"


	31. All Revved Up

Watched parts of _How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days_ awhile ago. Was inspired. :)

* * *

Juliet grinned and swung a leg over the seat, lovingly stroking the Norton's body. "She is a beautiful bike," she said affectionately and Shawn scoffed, half grinning in amusement.

"Oh, and what do you know about motorcycles?" he asked, swaggering closer.

She smiled up at him, her nose scrunching slightly. God, she was adorable. "Oh, I know plenty," she said, one hand twisting around the lapel of his jacket and the other pressing down on the bike's start switch. It rumbled to life beneath her as the engine turned over and Shawn's heart picked up a little at the impish smile on her face, his own grin threatening to spill off of his face.

"Oh, really?" he said, voice husky.

"Really," she said, and he heard the sound of the kickstand flipping up, the bike's weight shifting as Juliet balanced the softly growling machine. "Let me show you," she whispered and Shawn needed no more prompting. He slid onto the bike behind her, his arms wrapping snugly around her waist. "Hold on!"

He grinned, pressing a kiss into the crook of her neck and Juliet revved the engine. The bike took off and the thrill of his stomach being left behind prompted his arms to tighten even further around her waist.

He was really starting to love this girl.


	32. Blue Sky

I was longing for a blue sky one day, and out came this.

* * *

The sky is absurdly blue today, and, irritatingly enough, it reminds her of him.

Clear blue skies, spotted with pure, fluffy white clouds and oozing with blinding golden sunshine make her happy.

_He_ makes her happy.

She wishes he _didn't_ make her happy, but he does.

_So_ happy that she wonders where exactly she went wrong with him.

Somehow, he managed to wiggle, and squiggle, and wriggle, and every other kind of –iggle under her skin, but he hadn't stopped there, oh no. No, he'd happily picked and poked and rearranged his way all the way into her heart.

Damn him.

She's been denying it for months now, stubbornly ignoring her feelings and shutting him down with a coldness that really isn't necessary, because he's never pushed himself on her too hard.

He always manages to maintain this perfect balance of casual levity and serious emotion that leaves her bewildered every single time. She doesn't understand how it is that he affects her so precisely.

She _knows_ he's a playboy, she _knows_ he's unreliable, she _knows_ he's incorrigible, but at the same time, she knows he's serious when he's asking her out. She knows he's the kind of foundation she could build a life with. And she knows that she could very easily love him until the day that she dies.

That scares her. And it takes all of the joy out of a blue sky and out of that cheeky grin.

"Hey, Jules."

She stiffens, sitting up straighter and her head turns sharply to see him grinning that heart-melting quirky grin of his and _dammit_ if he hasn't taken her by surprise again. "Shawn."

"Beautiful day, isn't it?" he remarks and slides onto the bench beside her. A frown tugs at her mouth because he's exactly the kind of company she didn't want, despite a small part of her cheering because he's showed up.

"Yes, Shawn," she replies curtly. "It is."

He tilts his head, eyes scrutinizing her, making her feel utterly transparent, and he says, "I can go if you don't want me here, Jules."

It hurts a little to hear him say those words, and she can't imagine how he must feel, having to say them and knowing that part of her does want him to go. She looks at him and her throat immediately tightens because his hazel eyes are watching her with undisguised concern.

What is she supposed to do with this man? How is she supposed to trust him? _Can_ she trust him? She doesn't want to have her heart broken by someone she knows has _already _gotten a firm grip on her heart. If she lets him in, she's risking everything, risking the ultimate pain. Can she do that? Can she?

His actions and words are constantly veering wildly between yes and no. She can't trust either of those. But the tone of his voice, and his _eyes_…

He's still waiting for an answer.

"No, Shawn," she finally says. "Please, stay."


	33. Killing Me

I was lacking inspiration, so I turned to my muse Jenn1984 and she gave me this idea. :D

* * *

"Well fancy that. Juliet O'Hara."

He smiled as she turned, a half smile already quirking the corner of her mouth. She was sitting in the back corner of the bar, half-hidden in the dim lighting. And even if she hadn't been lurking where prying eyes would have a hard time finding her worth the time, her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, all traces of make-up gone except for the slight sheen of a possible coat of chapstick. She was trying to be frumpy in a pair of worn old jeans and a casual tee, but, well, quite frankly, it just wasn't working. She _still_ looked gorgeous. She, as they say, would look great in a feed sack.

"What are you doing here, Shawn?" she asked and her tone said that she knew as well as he did that this was no accident. "Are you stalking me?"

His mouth curled in a grin and he shrugged casually, sliding onto the stool next to her. "Only if you want me to."

She rolled her eyes and took a sip of the beer sitting in front of her. "What are you doing here, Shawn?" she repeated. "I didn't ask for company."

"Am I not allowed to come to a bar just to enjoy a drink and the music? I happen to like the Graham Cracker Band," he said.

"Graham Colton Band," she corrected him.

"Whatever." He waved down the bartender and ordered a beer of his own. Turning back to her he said, "It's okay, Jules. We don't have to talk. We can sit in companionable silence."

"Maybe _I_ can," she muttered and a grin crept onto her face at his indignant squawk.

"That was so uncalled for, Jules!" he exclaimed.

She laughed. "I don't think so. You are _stalking_ me after all."

"It's not stalking if the spirits drew me to you, Jules," he said pointedly.

"Oh, so now it's the spirits who are stalking me. Shawn, you're not making your case any better," she said and he tried to keep his gaze from lingering too long on her mouth as she took another sip of her beer.

"I didn't know I was making a case," he said and tipped his head gratefully at the bartender when he handed him a bottle.

They shared a few moments of companionable silence, Juliet turning to watch the band for a few minutes and Shawn trying to be sneaky about eyeballing the tiny sliver of skin peeking out from between her shirt and her jeans. It still amazed him how unfailingly he found her attractive. There was always something, always a curve somewhere that he couldn't take his eyes away from.

Juliet caught him staring at her mouth again. Her forehead creased adorably and she said, "What are you looking at?" and ran a hand over her mouth self-conciously.

He couldn't help it. He flushed and grinned and ducked his head, taking refuge in his beer. "Nothing—just—spacing out. It's nothing."

She eyed him suspiciously for a minute before finally shaking her head and clearly deciding that she wasn't sure she _wanted_ to know. "So what are _you_ doing here?" she asked casually. "Aside from stalking me."

An off-hand remark bounced on his tongue and came out as: "I didn't have anything better to do tonight, and I thought I might run into you here."

Juliet stared at him, obviously as surprised by the straightforward honesty of the answer as he was. "...So you _were_ stalking me."

A grin broke across Shawn's face and he said, "This is what I get for enjoying spending time with you Jules? Harsh—and false, might I add—accusations? Is it my fault you refuse to even consider hanging out with me outside of work?"

"I do not refuse!" Juliet protested.

He shot her a look. "Oh you don't."

A blush quickly spread across her nose and cheeks. "I—well—you—"

Shawn smirked. "Uh huh. That's what I thought. I am capable of cross-gender friendship, you know."

Juliet snorted. "Oh so you treat your guy friends the same way? Funny, I've never noticed the flirting with Gus."

"What's wrong with a little harmless flirting?" he asked defensively.

She rolled her eyes. "Harmless. Right."

"It most certainly—ooh." He perked up and set his beer down, catching her by the hand. "Great song, come on, let's dance."

"No—Shawn, I don't want to—"

Before she could muster up the appropriate refusal, Shawn had her on the dance floor, his arm around her waist and they were swaying along with the beat. "See?" she said. "This is _exactly_ why I won't let you take me out."

"What, two friends can't dance together?" he said and gently swung her around. "Personally I think everybody should dance."

Juliet almost didn't notice as he pulled her a little closer. She couldn't deny that it did feel good to dance again, to feel someone holding her close, moving in time with her. The song was perfect too, not too slow.

"So," Shawn said, voice lower and more subdued, "things okay at work?"

"You don't give up, do you?" She sighed, looking up and meeting his gaze. The faint annoyance of having her alone time interrupted began to crumble, because she recognized the look in his eyes. It was the same look she'd seen when he'd been sneaking around in the Chief's office, calling himself Kkarlton. Her hand tightened just slightly around his arm and she glanced away again. "Work is fine," she replied. "It's just…my parents."

"Ah, parents," Shawn said knowingly. "Can't ignore them, can't shoot them and bury them in the backyard…"

A smile flickered across Juliet's face. "Something like that."

"Overbearing?" Shawn queried.

She sighed again. "Yes. They keep pushing me to get married and have babies when I've made it clear to them that neither do I have a beau right now, nor any interest in starting a family. They just won't—"

"Listen?" Shawn smiled. "I have no idea what that's like…"

"I love them. Honestly, I really and truly do. I just…"

"Want to strangle them?"

"_Yes!_" Juliet said fervently and Shawn laughed.

"Expectations can be a bitch."

"You're telling me," she muttered. Without even realizing it, she leaned in, letting her head rest just slightly against his chin. "I just…wish they weren't so pushy. I want to get married and everything on my own terms."

"Mm," Shawn agreed. "I'm sure they're excellent terms too."

"I mean, it's not like I don't _want_ to get married," she continued. "I just haven't _clicked_, you know?"

She didn't notice when Shawn's eyes closed, his brow pinching in the center, and he swallowed.

Their steps slowed as the song came to an end and she looked up, just to find her face centimeters from his. This was the second time she'd found herself in unsettling proximity to the psychic. His eyes were green and brown in places this close and she held very still, trying not to feel his breath on her lips, as those eyes scanned her face, settling briefly on her mouth. He swallowed again and she whispered, "Shawn, this doesn't seem like something friends would do."

He met her gaze and whispered back, his lips just barely brushing hers, "I never said I could be friends with _you_."


	34. Waking Up

Random cuteness rofl.

* * *

Blearily, Shawn registered something soft and warm pressing against his clavicle near his shoulder

Blearily, Shawn registered something soft and warm pressing against his clavicle near his shoulder. A moment later the feeling came again, this time directly in between the bones in the center of his chest and he began drifting further away from sleep. The next contact was along the tendon in his neck and tingles trailed up from that point all the way up into the crown of his skull. He realized that the soft touches were from a pair of lips and his eyes fluttered open just as another kiss was pressed to the crook of his neck and jaw, sending more tingles up into his scalp.

"Jules?" he murmured drowsily.

Her face appeared in his eye line as she pressed another kiss to his cheekbone, lips turned up in a faint smile. "It's time to wake up, Shawn," she whispered, tone playful. "It's Christmas Day."

Shawn moaned softly, his eyes sliding shut again. "Can I just sleep for Christmas?"

Juliet pressed a kiss to his neck again, her fingers trailing down his chest and delivering tingles to every inch of his body.

He groaned. "No fair!" Lifting his arms, he wrapped them around her and pulled her down onto him with a quiet shriek of laughter. She kissed him again, this time full on the mouth and he sighed, a hand tangling in her hair.

When they separated he murmured, "Okay. I _guess_ I can get up."


	35. A Little More Action

This idea was courtesy of the great and magnificent Jenn1984.

Btw, Lassie says a really naughty word. I couldn't stop him. XD

* * *

Shawn leaned back in his chair and grinned into the reciever of his cell phone when the ringing stopped. "Juliet! How's my favorite detective?"

"Shawn, I can't talk right now," she replied, tones clipped and quiet.

One eyebrow rose. "Oh?"

"I told you she was probably busy, Shawn," Gus muttered haughtily from his desk.

Faintly, he heard Lassiter demand, "Is that _Spencer?_ O'Hara, now is not the time for—"

"Shawn, we're on a stake-out. I can't talk," Juliet said, clearly agitated, though whether it was at him, Lassiter, or someone else entirely he couldn't be sure.

Shawn perked up. "Stake-out?"

"Yes, at Pier Thirty-Six. Now I have to go."

"But wait! Does this have anything to do with—"

Lassiter swore and then Juliet was shouting, "There! There he goes!"

Shawn sat up a little straighter, a frown turning down the corner of his mouth. "Ju—"

The quiet, but distinct sound of gunfire cut him off, and Juliet used a word he hadn't even realized she knew. The gunfire didn't stop and he heard the sound of glass shattering. The call cut off.

"Jules!" he cried without thinking.

Gus looked up from his computer, frowning. "What, did she hang up on you?"

"Dude, they're in trouble," Shawn said and before Gus could even figure out what the hell he was talking about, Shawn had snapped his phone shut, snatched his keys off of the desk, and dashed out the door.

"Shawn?!" he demanded of the open door.

* * *

He made it to the Pier in record time, though not quickly enough to keep from wondering what exactly he planned to do when he got there.

Juliet and Lassie weren't stupid enough to get stuck somewhere without back up, right?

The sight of Lassiter's car did not reassure him. It was peppered with bullet holes, three of the five windows shattered, both of the remaining with bullet holes in them.

It was empty.

Where the hell were they? Realizing he'd been a complete idiot, not even bothering to look around and make sure that he hadn't just made himself a target, he took a quick, cursory glance around. If he was going to wind up being a target-sheet, he'd already be full of holes.

He jerked a foot down on the kickstand and was swinging a leg over his bike, tugging off his helmet, when he spotted Lassiter. He took off toward the detective. "Lassie! What the hell happened?! Where's Juliet?"

Blood oozed from a few thin cuts on Lassiter's face, and a sparkle of light from one of them led him to believe it had been the glass. Something in the detective's eyes wasn't quite right.

"Lassiter!" Shawn barked, grabbing hold of his arm. "Are you all right?"

"Fan-fucking-tastic," Lassiter muttered and Shawn was forced to move toward him as he sank into a lean against the car hood. Lassiter's language should have concerned him more than it did, but Juliet still hadn't appeared and it was a little hard to pay attention to anything else.

"Lassiter, where is Juliet?" he demanded.

Lassiter looked up at him, his brow furrowing. "We followed the suspects into the warehouse."

"Okay, but where is Juliet?" Shawn repeated, trying not to get impatient. If Lassiter was like this then Juliet could be—

"She was behind me," he said and then grimaced, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Damnit, my _head_. What are you doing here, Spencer?"

Shawn growled in frustration, bouncing on his toes a few times anxiously as he shot a look back at the warehouse. "I'm trying to figure out—"

"Where's O'Hara?" Lassiter said suddenly, and straightened up, his frown deepening.

"I don't _know_," Shawn said, "That's what I've been trying to—"

Lassiter shot to his feet, startling Shawn and he had to grab him as the other man nearly collapsed sideways. "There's a fire!" Lassiter puffed. "Had to get out. Where the hell is O'Hara?"

Shawn's stomach dropped and he glanced back at the warehouse. Faint tendrils of black smoke were now snaking out from gaps in the second floor of the warehouse. "Shit. Lassie—stay here."

Pushing Lassiter none-too-gently back against the car, he turned, sprinting for the warehouse.

It exploded.

Shawn landed hard on his back, breath forcing its way out of his lungs as though it hadn't even been there in the first place. A hot ember struck him on the cheek and he flinched, arms going up to shield his head as smoke rolled out over the asphalt, debris sprinkling down from the sky in the form of tiny bits of charred wood and metal and larger, pointier shards.

He lay there for a moment in shock, focused primarily on getting air into his burning lungs. It was hot and thick with dust, which sent him into a painful coughing fit. "No," he muttered, rolling onto his hands and knees and coughing as he pushed himself to his feet. "No, Juliet. _Juliet!_" he shouted, pushing his way through the smoke filled air. "_Juliet!_"

She couldn't be. No way. She just couldn't.

"SPENCER!"

Shawn jerked to a stop, Lassiter's hand clutched around his elbow. "Lassiter!" he shouted. "Let go! _Juliet_…!"

"Don't be stupid!" Lassiter snapped back and his grip tightened, though he swayed slightly when his head turned. Behind them squad cars began flooding into the lot, crunching over the gravel.

Shawn jerked and nearly pulled Lassiter over, though he refused to release the psychic. "Lassiter!" he said, voice reaching a new high. "I have to go—"

"_No_, Spencer!" Lassiter retorted.

Shawn was opening his mouth to protest again when he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye, and his head turned sharply.

It was Juliet.

She was limping, there were several thin trails of blood dripping down her face, and she was filthy, but she was _alive_.

"Oh my god. _Juliet!_" He wrenched out of Lassiter's grip, racing to meet her. Catching hold of her, she leaned into him and looked up.

"What are you doing here, Shawn?" she asked, clearly exhausted.

"Oh my god," he muttered in response. "Oh my god. Oh my god, Juliet."

"Shawn," she said. "What—?"

"Never again, Jules," he whispered and she had a split second to wonder what on earth he was talking about before his lips were pressed to hers. She jerked in surprise, but one of Shawn's hands had made it to the back of her head, gently but firmly keeping her from escaping. After a long moment he pulled away slightly, his forehead touching hers. "I don't care, Jules," he whispered into her lips. "I don't care if you say no. But dammit, you scared the shit out of me. You have to know."

Juliet's knees felt a little weak, and she wasn't sure it had anything to do with bloodloss. "Know what?" she asked.

"Do you really need me to tell you?"

Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her again.


	36. Words Better Left Unspoken

Jenn1984 showed me these lyrics and I thought they were just perfect for Shawn. :D

* * *

I'm falling more in love

I'm falling more in love

with every single word I withhold

I'm falling more in love

with every single word you say

And I'm falling head over heels for you

* * *

"What are you doing here, Shawn?" Juliet asks, and it's hard not to grin because the exasperated tone in her voice is adorable.

I want to say, "I'm here to see you." Instead, I say, "Do we not live in a free country?"

I pause, and with a tiny roll of her eyes that _does_ make me grin, she says, "Yes, Shawn, I suppose it is."

"You _suppose?_"

This time the eye-roll is theatrical. "Shawn."

"And this is public property, is it not?"

She sighs, clearly seeing where I'm going with this. "Yes, Shawn, it's public property. But why do you have to come to _this_ part of all the public property in Santa Barbara?" she asks.

This time I almost say, "Well, duh. To look at you." But I stop myself, instead saying, "I'm fond of this particular spot."

"Oh, is that so," she retorts sarcastically.

"Yes, Detective, it is," I say primly. I sit on the corner of her desk.

She huffs and says irritably, "Shawn!"

I grin charmingly at her. It's tempting to tell her she looks adorable when her face turns red. "Yes, Jules?"

"You're on my files!"

I glance down, peering under my butt as though I have no idea what she's talking about. "Hey look at that. I am."

I don't move.

"Shawn!" she exclaims, voice tinged with irritation. I love it. "Shawn, I have _work!_ Why don't you go bother Carlton?"

"Because I think I love you," I think, but I don't say anything.

Someday. But not today.


End file.
